The Gap
by Jordan Trevor
Summary: Separated from the Enterprise by space and time, Jean-Luc, Beverly, Will, and Deanna find a home…in the Gap.
1. Chapter 1

**The Gap**

by Jordan Trevor

**Author's Note:** Well, this is the first time I've ever started posting a story that's not all the way completed. I may not be able to post a chapter every day, but I have enough written to make a start. For those who read it, I appreciate your patience, understanding, and support. Thanks, JT

**Disclaimer:** The crew of the _Enterprise _and the citizens of Cutter Gap don't belong to me.

The dream was almost ten years old, and he rarely dreamed it anymore. But it woke him in the middle of the night, shaking, frightened, reaching out for some sense of reality. And he found himself, as always, enveloped within the safe haven of Beverly's arms.

"Shh, Jean-Luc, it's just a dream," she whispered, smoothing her hand along the back of his neck. "You're all right. I'm here."

He clung to her, his face buried against her shoulder. She rocked him in her arms, like a child, like she rocked Andrew and Margaret and Walker, humming softly in his ear. The nightmare images began to recede, replaced with the familiar, orderly darkness of the cabin around him. He relaxed, took a deep shuddering breath.

"Mama?" The child's soft call came from the other side of the room.

Jean-Luc instantly stiffened, pulling away from Beverly's embrace, angry at himself for having woken one of the children.

"Mama?" It was Walker's voice, small and forlorn in the dark cabin.

Beverly climbed from beneath the blankets, pushed aside the curtain that partially surrounded their bed, and padded over to the opposite corner. She knelt beside the low trundle bed. "Shh, Walker, Mama's here."

Jean-Luc's eyes adjusted to the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the front window, and he watched Beverly bending over their son, brushing her hand lovingly across his forehead. She was humming to him now, the same tune.

Jean-Luc got out of bed, pulled on his dressing gown and silently went out the front door to the porch. The night air was still and cool, the tall mountains rising dark and black around the cabin. The small, swept yard and the woods beyond were bathed in the moon's ghostly, silver light. The stream gurgled in the distance. An owl hooted, and another returned the call. He leaned heavily against the porch railing, taking deep breaths of the fresh air.

He could not remember the last time he'd had that particular dream. Years, perhaps. He just wasn't sure. There had been a time when he'd had it every night, when the only way he could sleep at all was to have Beverly hold him. And that had been before... Well, long before Andrew had been born. Before they'd decided to live out their days here as husband and wife.

He heard the door open and gently close behind him. Beverly joined him, her arm wrapping securely around his waist.

"I'm sorry I...w-woke him," Jean-Luc said softly, stuttering slightly.

"He wasn't all the way awake. He's fine now." She ran a hand up over his shoulders. "How about you?"

Jean-Luc nodded. "I'm fine. I just..." His voice trailed off.

"You want to talk about it?"

"No. It's...an old dream."

"The accident?"

Somehow, Beverly knew. She always knew.

He nodded again. "I haven't dreamed it in a long time." But he'd thought about it. Every day. He was sure they all had. But years ago, they'd stopped talking about it, partly because they didn't want the children to hear.

_"It will be better for them if they don't know where we come from," Deanna said, bouncing one-year-old Sam on her knee._

_Jean-Luc stared down at his own tiny newborn son, cradled in Beverly's arms. "Then what do we tell them?"_

_"We can still tell them the truth. Your family is from France, Beverly's from Scotland, Will's from the Alaskan territory."_

_"And yours?" Jean-Luc questioned pointedly._

_"Well, my father was Irish."_

_Will crossed over from the other side of the room. "But is it fair to them? Won't they always sense that there's something we're keeping from them?" He gazed at Deanna. "Especially Sam. He's only a quarter Betazoid, but surely he'll have a deeper degree of empathy than a full Human child."_

_Deanna nodded. "Yes, he probably will. But I still think it would be better for them if they didn't know."_

_Beverly looked up from the infant she was holding. "I agree with Deanna. This is our home now. The only home they'll ever have. Let's not confuse them with a world they'll never see."_

And it had been decided. They'd all agreed. But someone had forgotten to tell Jean-Luc's subconscious mind. And the dreams seemed to haunt him more than they did the others.

A simple trip to a conference that had gone so terribly wrong. A rip in space that had somehow hurled their shuttle back through time and deposited them on Earth, on the side of a mountain, in the backwoods of Tennessee. The year: 1903.

Riker, Troi, and Crusher had escaped serious injury, but Picard had not been so lucky. He had collided with the shuttle's instrument panel, the metal tearing into the side of his skull. It was a miracle that he had lived. Crusher had been afraid that he would die in the middle of the unknown wilderness. He'd lain comatose for almost a week. And then, one day, his eyes had opened.

_"Jean-Luc?" Crusher bent over him, running a wet cloth gently over his forehead. "Jean-Luc, can you hear me?"_

_He groaned softly and swallowed. His mouth and throat were dry. "Wa. . ." His lips tried to form the word. But he couldn't say it._

_Crusher understood, though, and held a cup to his lips. He sipped at the cool liquid, the wetness running down over his chin._

_"Jean-Luc, do you know who I am?"_

_He stared up at the woman. He knew her. "Bev..." he murmured, then closed his eyes. He was so tired._

_He felt her squeeze his hand. "Yes, Jean-Luc. Yes."_

His recovery had been difficult. There was some brain damage, and his speech had been affected; it was halting and slow. He found that he didn't always know the right words for what he wanted to say. He had trouble naming objects, and it was hard for him to remember what had happened to them. His ability to walk had been impaired; his left side was weak. But both Deanna and Beverly worked with him daily, and he was finally able to get around their small campsite with the aid of a wooden cane that Will had made.

Still, they had no idea where they were.

_"I have to go down out of these mountains in order to find out where we are," Riker announced one evening after they'd been there for a little over two weeks._

_Three pairs of eyes stared at him._

_"You...you can't go..." Picard licked his lips, searching for the word he wanted. He found it. "...go alone."_

_Riker studied his captain's worried expression. He didn't want to countermand him. But there was no other choice. "I have to go. We don't even know how many miles we are from any civilization. If there is any civilization in this area." Riker angrily pushed himself to his feet and began to pace around the campfire in circles. "We don't know where the hell we are. And apparently, neither does Starfleet."_

_He voiced the fear they all felt. They were lost. Terribly lost. So lost they may never be found._

_"I'll go with you," Troi said firmly._

_Riker turned toward her, his gaze set hard. "No. The three of you have to stay together. I'll be all right. If I don't find anything within a week, I'll turn back."_

Riker had left the next day. Only two days later, he'd returned.

_"We're on Earth," he explained, "only we've gone through some kind of rift in time. About a day's walk from here, I came across a small village. There's a store and an old-fashioned train station. It's a good thing we had other clothes besides our uniforms. I still looked a little out of place, but I managed to get some information. The village is called El Pano, Tennessee. The year is 1903. "_

Jean-Luc wrapped both of his arms around Beverly, pulled her close. "It's hard to believe we've...k-kept it all hidden from the children," he said, stroking his fingers through her hair.

She rested her head on his chest. "Yes. It is." She looked up into his eyes. "But sometimes...I feel that we shouldn't have. As hard as we've tried to fit into life in these mountains, we're still looked upon as outsiders. Even when the children are playing with their friends, I know they feel it."

"We all do," Jean-Luc whispered, gently kissing her forehead. Then he turned to lead her across the porch to the door.

A small face at the window saw them coming and scampered back to his bunk bed. Andrew was under the covers, pretending to be asleep, when his parents came inside.

~vVv~

Deanna Troi watched the sun come up through the window beside her bed, the silver-grey light of the morning sky turning pink above the hazy blue ridge of the mountain. The birds were beginning to sing and their music blended with the soft, familiar sounds of her sleeping family: Sam and Thomas tossing restlessly in their bed, Matilda sucking her thumb in her crib, and Will's gentle snoring beside her. She turned away from the window and stared down at him. He slept with his mouth slightly open, each breath ruffling the hair on his upper lip. Deanna sighed, her fingers longing to touch his beard. She nestled back into the bed beside him, fit her body against his. He stirred in his sleep, reaching an arm out, pulling her close. Hesitantly, she placed her hand against his cheek. His snoring stopped; he closed his mouth and opened one eye.

"Good morning," she whispered, nuzzling his neck, kissing the point of his chin.

"Umm," he responded, covering her lips with his, hands roaming over her body.

Turning on to their sides, they made love quietly under the blankets as the sun rose and the morning dawned.

~vVv~

"Hey, hey, slow down." Jean-Luc grabbed Walker's shoulder as he flew around the table, sturdy legs propelling his four-year-old body across the floor. "No running in the house. Now, sit...sit down and eat your breakfast." He steered his son toward the wooden bench beside the table and then sat down heavily in the chair at the end.

Beverly noticed the slowness in Jean-Luc's steps, how he'd had to lean against the table to steady himself, the hesitancy in his speech. She'd been noticing it more in the past several days, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she placed a plate stacked high with hot, golden pancakes in front of him.

"You've... outdone yourself this morning," he complimented her, reaching for the bottle of maple syrup in the middle of the table.

"I made them, Papa," Margaret piped, skipping over from the kitchen area.

"You did?" Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow at his daughter. "All by yourself?"

Margaret laughed, nose crinkling, blue eyes so much like her mother's. "Mama helped," she admitted, tossing a long brown braid over her shoulder.

"Cookin's women's work," Andrew snorted from the other side of the table.

"And who told you that, young man?" Beverly inquired, crossing over and putting a hand firmly on the boy's shoulder.

Andrew slouched lower, his chin almost touching the table top. "That's what Creed Allen says," he mumbled.

"Your Uncle Will likes to cook," Jean-Luc reminded him.

"Yeah, and he's not a woman," Margaret added.

"He wears Aunt D'anna's apron," Walker giggled.

And they all laughed at the image of the tall, bearded man with Deanna's flowered apron tied around his waist.

"Let's make sure and...k-keep that in the family," Jean-Luc suggested as he caught his breath.

"Well, I sure am not gonna tell Creed Allen that my uncle wears an apron," Andrew vowed, shoveling a forkful of pancake into his mouth.

"No, I don't think Creed would understand," Beverly agreed.

"I'm not sure I understand," Jean-Luc frowned. "Even after all these years."

"He likes to cook," Beverly sighed, sitting down next to Andrew. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"But Mama, he looks silly in Aunt Deanna's apron," Andrew persisted.

"Yes, he does. But he enjoys cooking." She fixed a steady gaze on her son. "And in this family, we respect each other's interests. Is that understood?"

Andrew frowned slightly, but answered her. "Yes, ma'am."

"And, for your information, Creed Allen is wrong. Cooking is not 'women's work'."

"But Mama..."

"No, Andrew, your mother is right," Jean-Luc said firmly. "Neither of us believes that any sort of work belongs to either women or men. You know yourself that your mother is just as...fine a doctor as Doc MacNeill."

Andrew nodded. "I know. But why won't any of the families in the cove let Mama take care of them?"

Jean-Luc glanced at Beverly, the expression in his eyes one of regret. This wasn't where he'd wanted the conversation to end up. "Andrew we've talked about this before. The families aren't used to the idea of a...w-woman doctor. But just because they're not used to it, doesn't mean it isn't possible. There are... many women doctors in the larger cities outside of the mountains."

"Then why don't we move there?" Margaret asked, having been listening intently.

Beverly sighed exhaustively, and before Jean-Luc had a chance to answer, she brought the conversation to a halt. "Because we're not. We live here. Now, all of you, eat your breakfast or you'll be late for school."

Three heads, two brown, one red, dipped closer to their plates. Beverly smiled across the table at Jean-Luc, shaking her head. He returned her smile. Before they'd come here, he'd never imagined that he would have a family. Let alone have a family with Beverly Crusher. Now, he couldn't imagine not having one, nor having one with any other woman than the one sitting across from him.

~vVv~

Will's hand rested on Deanna's round stomach, and he blinked in surprise when he felt the sharp blow.

"Deanna?" he gasped softly.

She snuggled closer in his arms, her body molded to his. "Our other three children are awake as well," she sighed sleepily.

Will smiled and kissed the back of her neck. "I know. Sam's making breakfast. And Thomas is getting Matilda dressed." He kissed her again. "I told them you and the baby needed some more sleep. But it seems that the baby is wide awake." He ran his hand over her stomach and was rewarded with another kick. "He's quite a little fighter."

Deanna laughed. "I keep telling you that this one's another girl."

"And I keep telling you you're wrong," he said, kissing her one last time before reluctantly pulling away and getting out of bed.

Deanna started to get out of bed also, but his voice stopped her. "Oh, no you don't. You're sleeping in this morning."

She pushed herself up in bed, leaned against the headboard and stared at him. "I most certainly am not. The children need to be fed and dressed and sent off to school."

"I can do that," Will answered as he pulled on a pair of trousers, hitching the suspenders over his bare shoulders.

Deanna frowned. "Then why is Sam making breakfast?"

Will rolled his eyes, searching for an answer. "Because he wanted to."

She nodded. "I see. And I suppose Thomas _wanted _to get Matilda dressed?"

Will grinned. "It just so happens that he did." He propped one knee on the side of the bed and leaned over toward Deanna. "He pleaded with me. He said, 'Please, Daddy, please let me dress my little sister'." He imitated Thomas' small, high-pitched voice.

Deanna playfully swatted her hand at his chest. "And I suppose he really wanted to change her diapers as well?"

Will pulled back, escaping another gentle slap. "I tried to talk him into it, but..." He sighed. "I've already taken care of her. So, you see, we're doing just fine. Now, stay in bed. I'll bring you some breakfast in a little while."

He pushed back the curtain that separated their bed from the rest of the one room cabin and disappeared. Deanna settled back into the pillows. She felt the baby kick again, and held her hands to her stomach. This one was going to be just like Will: strong and insistent.

~vVv~


	2. Chapter 2

He took his cane with him today. The same one Will had made all those years ago. The one he'd used intermittently since the accident. The brain damage he'd suffered had never completely healed. In this time and place, with the limited medical supplies available to her, Beverly knew it never would. But there had been many times in the last ten years that it had seemed to get better. His difficulties with speech and movement came and went. And in the past few days, Beverly had noticed the weakness on his left side, the slight stuttering, especially when he was worried or tired.

She walked along beside him now, as the children ran ahead of them, her hand holding on to his right arm.

"You don't have to...to hold on to me so tightly," he said quietly, smiling over at her.

Beverly sighed, relaxing her grip. "Sorry. I'm just...worried."

He nodded. "I know you are. But you shouldn't be. We've dealt with this for the past ten years. You should be used to it by now." He leaned heavily against the cane in his left hand as the path dipped down the side of the mountain.

Instinctively, Beverly tightened her hold on his arm again. But this time, he didn't say anything.

"It's just been a long time since you've needed your cane. And with your dream last night... I'm worried about you, Jean."

He drew in a deep breath, stopped and turned toward her. "Don't be," he said softly, reaching up and brushing his fingers over her cheek. "I'll be fine. It'll pass. It always does." He leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to her forehead.

They stood there for a moment, not moving, just feeling each other's warmth, until a shrill voice shouted up to them.

"Mama! Papa! We're going to be late for school!"

With a combined sigh, they broke apart and continued down the mountain path, following their eager children.

~vVv~

"He made me sleep in this morning," Deanna complained as she lowered herself into a chair on the front porch, pulling Matilda onto one of her knees.

"I'm glad he did. You've got to slow down a little," Beverly said, standing on the steps, watching Will and Jean-Luc saddle the horses. Will kept both his and Jean-Luc's horse in his barn because there was more room for a corral here, and the path up the mountain to the Picard's was too steep for a horse to traverse on a daily basis.

With a sigh, Beverly went and sat down in a chair beside Deanna.

"I'm not the only one who needs to slow down," the dark haired woman said quietly, her eyes following Beverly's.

"But he won't," she frowned, knowing it was useless to argue with him.

They watched as the men finished saddling the horses. Will gave Jean-Luc a boost onto his saddle and helped him stow his cane along the side. Then he handed up Margaret to sit in front of him, and Andrew behind. Next, he swung onto his own horse, then leaned over and lifted first Thomas, and then Sam, onto the horse with him.

Walker watched, then ran toward the cabin's front porch. "I wanna go!" he pleaded, collapsing onto the steps, banging his feet against the rough boards.

The men reined the horses over to the porch.

"Next year," Jean-Luc assured his youngest son. "You're not quite old enough for school yet."

"Wanna go see Miss Ch'isty," the child persisted.

"You'll have to wait, Walker," Will laughed. "I'm afraid there's not enough room on your father's horse for one more Picard."

"Yeah," Andrew called down to him. "Next year, I'll have my own horse, and then there'll be room for you."

Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow. "Your own horse? Son, I think we've got some talking to do." He smiled at Beverly. "We'll be late coming back from El Pano. Don't wait supper." He caught the look of concern in her eyes. "And don't worry," he added, then turned his horse and headed off across the yard toward the road that led into Cutter Gap.

"Hold down the fort," Will smiled at Deanna and Beverly.

Sam groaned. "You always say that, Dad."

"Because I always mean it," he laughed, elbowing his eldest son in the ribs.

"I'll make sure she rests, Will," Beverly promised with a knowing glance in Deanna's direction.

He nodded. "Good. And I'll keep an eye on him."

Beverly smiled. "Thanks. Don't let him overdo it."

"Daddy," Thomas complained, "Uncle Jean-Luc's gonna get there first."

"Well, we'd best be going. Didn't know it was a race." He dug his heels into the horse's sides, made a clucking noise, and they trotted across the yard to the road.

"Sam, you bring everyone here after school," Deanna called.

"Yes, ma'am," Sam answered, looking back over his shoulder and waving.

And then they were gone, the horses kicking up clouds of dust as they disappeared down the road.

Beverly sighed tiredly. "Should we go in and let me examine you now, or should we sit here for a while?"

"Sit here," Deanna answered, closing her eyes. It was not yet eight o'clock, and she was exhausted.

"Good idea," Beverly agreed.

"Mama?" Walker stamped his feet on the steps.

She looked down at him. "Walker, go find a book and I'll read to you."

He frowned.

"You can pretend I'm Miss Christy, and we'll play school," she suggested.

His small face brightened. "All right." He pushed himself to his feet and scampered into the cabin to look for a book.

"You're a genius, Beverly," Deanna murmured, shifting Matilda to her other knee.

"No, I'm not," she deadpanned. "I'm Miss Christy."

~vVv~

As soon as Will reined his horse to a stop, Sam and Thomas slid to the ground. Next to them, Andrew and Margaret slid from their father's horse as well. They were at the top of the hill in front of the school and other boys and girls were hurrying past them.

"You mind Miss Christy," Will reminded them.

"We will," Sam assured him.

"Papa, will you wake us when you come in tonight?" Margaret peered up at her father.

Jean-Luc smiled. "Only if your mother will let me. If not, I'll see you in the morning." He winked. "Now, run along."

The children turned and ran toward the school. Will and Jean-Luc stared after them, and then waved as the school teacher, Christy Huddleston, stepped out onto the front steps. She waved back.

"They didn't have school marms like that when I was little," Will commented with a grin.

Jean-Luc sighed. "This particular school marm is young enough to be your daughter."

Will winced. "Just barely."

At that moment, another horse and rider rode up next to them. "Good morning, gentlemen."

"Good morning, Alice," Jean-Luc greeted the woman.

"Morning," Will said.

"I heard you're riding into El Pano this morning. Mind if I ride along part of the way?"

Jean-Luc smiled. "It would be our pleasure."

They turned their horses back down the hill and set off at a leisurely pace. They instantly fell into comfortable conversation, and Alice Henderson wondered again at the two men's origins. Even after all the years they'd known each other, she'd never pried into their past. She knew they were different from their neighbors in the cove, educated, refined. She'd had many a discussion with Jean-Luc Picard concerning the merits of William Shakespeare, and she knew that his wife, Beverly, was a doctor. Will Riker was an easy going, loquacious man who seemed well-traveled. And Deanna... Well, Alice had never felt more at peace with any other person than she did when talking with Deanna Riker.

She glanced over at the two men as they rode along. She never questioned. If there were something else they wanted her to know, then they would tell her. And until then, their secrets were their own.

"Will, how is Deanna?" Alice asked. "That baby's due any day, isn't she?"

Will sighed. "Yes, _he _is," he answered, stressing the pronoun.

Alice grinned. "Deanna swears it's a girl."

"She's just mistaken," Will insisted.

"And Will's misled," Jean-Luc interjected. "He hasn't yet figured out that there's no use d-doubting his wife."

"Or any man's wife, to be sure," Alice added.

Jean-Luc laughed. "To be sure," he agreed, having discovered that in many ways Beverly was more in command of their lives than he'd ever been on the _Enterprise. _He sighed with contentment. There were some days that he liked it that way.

The conversation drifted to their plans for the day. Alice was headed to Cataleechi to check on the families in that area of the mountains. And Will and Jean-Luc were picking up some supplies at the general store and then some equipment that was coming in on the late afternoon train.

"You're going to be loaded down on your way back," Alice observed, eyeing the men and their horses.

Jean-Luc smiled. "I'm buying a mule from Foster's Livery. I'm afraid it's the...closest thing Andrew's going to get to a horse of his own."

"I think he'll be mighty proud," Alice assured him. "A boy's imagination can turn a plain old mule into the grandest stallion."

"He'll need a good imagination," Will chuckled. "I've seen Ed Foster's mules. Ugly is too kind a word to use in description of –"

"I beg your pardon," Jean-Luc cut him off. "You happen to be insulting the Picard family's…f-future prize-winning thoroughbred."

Their laughter echoed down the hills as they rode along, the sun climbing higher in the blue autumn sky.

~vVv~

Beverly sat on the edge of Deanna's bed, gently pressing her fingers over the younger woman's bare stomach.

"I'd give anything to have my medical tricorder," she sighed.

Deanna smiled up at her. "That's what you said with Matilda and Thomas, and you did a fine job delivering both of them."

"Still, after all these years, I don't really feel complete without it."

"Even if the power hadn't depleted in the tricorders and phasers, Jean-Luc was right. We would have had to have given them up eventually. The children would have started questioning."

"You're right," Beverly agreed, pulling Deanna's shirt back down over her large stomach. "As usual. And as far as I can tell without a tricorder, you and the baby are just fine." She helped Deanna sit up and pull her loose fitting skirt around her waist. "She could come any day now."

Deanna sighed and brushed her hair back over her shoulders. "Go ahead and say it."

Beverly stared over at her. "Say what?"

"Say that Will shouldn't have ridden off to El Pano today with a baby due any second."

Beverly shook her head. "You're getting better at reading my thoughts every day."

"I feel myself getting more and more like my mother every day," Deanna laughed as she pushed herself up off the bed.

Beverly stood quickly and helped her to her feet. "You miss her, don't you?"

Deanna smiled. "Now look who's reading thoughts?" Beverly frowned, and Deanna caught hold of her hands. "You've been thinking about Wesley."

"All the time."

They walked into the kitchen area and Deanna sat down at the table while Beverly set about preparing them each a cup of tea. She glanced over to the far side of the room where Walker was quietly playing and Matilda was taking a morning nap. "There are times when I want to tell the children about their big brother. I know that they would idolize Wesley." She brought the cups over to the table and sat down across from Deanna. "And then I wonder where he is, and how he is." She laughed softly. "And if he's busy existing on different planes, then why doesn't he just walk into this one."

Deanna reached out and placed her hand on Beverly's arm. "Maybe he will someday."

Beverly grinned. "I'm not holding my breath." She looked back over at the children. "I'm just thankful for what we've got here."

"So am I," Deanna agreed, then took a long sip of her tea.

~vVv~

They parted ways halfway to El Pano. Alice was barely out of sight when Will reined his horse to a stop and insisted that they get down and rest. Jean-Luc scowled, but allowed his friend to help him off his horse.

"Almost ten years since we've been on the _Enterprise, _and you're just as much of a mother hen as you always were," he complained good-naturedly, taking a few steps to stretch before sinking down onto a fallen tree to rest.

Will sat beside him. "I still miss her."

Jean-Luc glanced at him, an unmistakable twinkle in his eyes. "So do I. But..." He looked around the sunlit glade, breathed in the fresh mountain air, thought of Beverly and the children back in the cove. "I wouldn't trade what we've got now just to get her back."

"Neither would I," Will agreed, looking over at the man sitting next to him. "But it's hard to believe that I haven't referred to you as Captain in... What? Six, seven years?"

Jean-Luc's eyes brightened with a memory. "Not since Sam called me Uncle Captain at the dinner table one night."

Will laughed. "I remember. You should have seen the look on your face."

"What about Sam's? He was one confused three-year-old."

Will's laughter trailed off. "Do you ever feel guilty?"

Jean-Luc didn't ask to what he was referring. He knew. "Sometimes. But Deanna's right. It wouldn't be fair to them to know."

Will shrugged. "I just don't like keeping secrets from them. Having to make up a past." He sighed. "Thomas asked me the other day where his grandfathers were. I could tell him truthfully that Deanna's father had died, but...I had to lie to him about Kyle."

"What did you tell him?"

"That he wandered off into the mountains of the Alaskan Territory, and we never saw him again."

"Will! You make it sound like a bad adventure novel," Jean-Luc frowned.

"Yeah... Well, Thomas bought it. I think he told every kid at school that his grandfather was the Daniel Boone of Alaska...with a little unsolved mystery thrown in."

Jean-Luc understood. "It's not easy. I know there are times when Beverly wants to tell them about Wesley. But we can't..." He glanced around the mountains that rose on either side of them. "I always thought that if I ever did have children that I would share my love of space with them. Now, the closest we can get is...sitting on the porch at night, counting the stars. It's not the same..." He drew in a deep breath. "But it's good, Will. Having them. Sharing any life with them, even if it's not the life I always thought I would have."

Will nodded. "I know what you mean." He gave Jean-Luc a sideways glance. "Captain."

~vVv~


	3. Chapter 3

"Thank you, Sam. That was very good."

The boy looked up from the book in his hands and smiled at the woman standing beside him. He liked Miss Christy. They all did.

"Now," she continued, "it's time for lunch. We'll do some more reading this afternoon. Class dismissed."

The children jumped up from their seats and hurried out the door into the warm sunshine, gathering lunch buckets as they went.

Sam, Andrew, and Thomas settled on the foot of the front steps with Creed Allen, Sam Houston, and Little Burl.

"I got a ham sandwich," Andrew said, looking into his bucket.

"Trade ya' a cheese sandwich for it," Sam Houston offered.

"Deal," Andrew agreed, and they swapped sandwiches.

"Red apple," Little Burl said, holding it up in a grubby hand.

"Green," Creed called, taking an apple from his bucket. The two pieces of fruit changed hands.

"What you got, Sam?" Andrew asked.

"We got tea cakes," Thomas answered instead, taking a handful of sugar cookies from his bucket.

All the boys' eyes widened.

"Is that all your Mama gave you?" Creed asked.

Sam sighed. "We packed our own lunch this morning. But we got other stuff, too." He took out a handful of beef jerky, a biscuit with honey, and a slice of sweet potato pie.

They all looked on with envy.

"There's enough to share," Thomas spoke up, digging into his bucket and passing the food around.

"Well, now, this looks interesting."

The boys looked up. Miss Christy stood over them.

"Sam, who packed your lunch this morning?"

Sam squinted up at her. "Me and Thomas did," he answered.

"Mama was sleepin' and Daddy was takin' care of Matilda," Thomas added by way of explanation.

"Mama's tired cause the new baby's comin'," Sam said.

Miss Christy nodded. "Oh, that's right." And with a smile, she walked past them and headed to the other side of the yard.

"You think she's gonna tell Mama?" Thomas asked, a look of worry crossing his face.

"Naw, she ain't gonna tell your Ma," Creed answered. "But she'll probably bring soup or somethin' over to your place. That's what she did last spring when my Ma was sick."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, stuffing a cookie into his mouth.

"My papa's going to buy me a horse," Andrew piped up.

"He is not," Little Burl shot back.

"Is too."

"That's not what he said," Sam reminded Andrew. "He said ya'll had to talk about it."

"Well, he's going to El Pano today to get something, and I think it's a horse."

"And I think you're wrong." In fact, somehow, Sam knew he was wrong. And he sighed. He'd always known things. For as far back as he could remember. He knew when people were sad or worried. Even when they didn't say anything. And he knew when they were telling the truth. Sometimes, he and Mama would talk about people's feelings. And Sam knew that she felt things deeply, too. It wasn't something he talked about with anybody else. He didn't think they'd understand. "Andrew, best not be getting your hopes up."

"Yeah," Sam Houston added. "Horses cost a lot of money."

~vVv~

Jean-Luc placed the final bill in Ed Foster's hand, and the man's fingers closed around the money.

"He's all yours, John-Luke," he smiled, reaching out to pat the mule with his other hand.

"And a fine thoroughbred he is," Will commented.

Ed laughed. "Well, he ain't a thoroughbred. But he'll sure enough be a good pack mule."

Jean-Luc nodded. "Thank you, Ed. He'll do just fine." He took the reins and led the mule out of the livery stable, Will following behind him.

The sun was dipping low in the sky and Jean-Luc squinted his eyes in the direction of the train depot. "Train should be here soon."

"Soon," Will agreed. "I think we've got time for an early supper first."

"Good idea."

~vVv~

"Beverly, I'm fine. I can manage supper."

"Sit down, Deanna. Besides, it makes sense for us all to eat here, and much more sense for me to make supper. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not nine months pregnant, and you are."

Deanna sank back down into the rocking chair she'd been sitting in for most of the afternoon.

"Anyway, I've got quite a good helper," Beverly added, watching Margaret as she moved around the small kitchen area.

"I helped Mama cook breakfast this morning," Margaret said. "Pancakes. Papa said they were good."

"And Papa knows his pancakes, doesn't he?" Beverly laughed.

"I'm sure he does," Deanna agreed. She looked over to the other side of the cabin. Matilda and Walker sat on the floor playing. "Walker," she called, "do you know where the big boys are?"

Walker shook his head. But Margaret answered.

"I think they're on the front porch."

"I'll go check on them," Deanna offered, and then cast a sideways glance at Beverly. "That's if I'm allowed to move."

"Oh, you can move. Just not too fast."

Deanna rolled her eyes. "Thank you."

Slowly, she got to her feet, crossed over to the front door and opened it. She stepped out onto the porch. The boys sat at the top of the steps in a line: Andrew, Sam, and Thomas. Their elbows were propped on their knees, and they rested their heads in their hands.

Deanna gazed down at them. "Supper will be ready soon."

There was a collective groan.

"Is there something wrong?"

Sam turned and looked up at his mother. "I don't think we're hungry."

"I see," she said, moving over and sitting down in a chair. "Would that have anything to do with the dozen sugar cookies that I found missing from the cookie jar?"

Sam winced.

"And the beef jerky that your father had in the pantry?"

"I guess it could have something to do with it," Sam answered meekly.

"Should I ask Aunt Beverly to give you some medicine for your stomachs?"

There was an immediate chorus of "no's," and the two other boys turned and looked up at her.

"We didn't mean to eat so much, Mama," Thomas sighed. "But Daddy let us fix our own lunch, and..."

"Well, we didn't know what to fix," Sam added.

"Don't tell Mama," Andrew pleaded. "She'll make us take medicine, and it'll be awful."

Deanna nodded. "But if you're sick..."

All three of them sat up a little straighter.

"We're not sick," Thomas insisted.

"We're just not too hungry," Sam explained.

Deanna couldn't help but smile at the three worried faces. "All right, it can be our secret."

~vVv~

The sun was setting as Will and Jean-Luc rode toward home. The sky was still aglow with streaks of orange and pink, and the moon would rise shortly. It had been a clear day, and it promised to be a clear night as well.

They walked along at a steady pace, the mule following behind the horses on the mountain road.

"Despite all my teasing, I think Andrew is going to be pleased with your purchase," Will said, glancing back at the mule.

"I think so, too," Jean-Luc responded. "He's a fine mule."

"As mules go," Will agreed, taking the lead as the road narrowed.

They skirted around a fallen tree, and Jean-Luc's horse hesitated. He urged him on with a gentle prod of his heels. The horse shied back and whinnied; the mule stomped behind them.

"Come on, Galileo," Jean-Luc encouraged, patting the horse's neck.

The horse took a step forward, and then shied back again, pulled at the reins. His hind feet slid on the leaf strewn ground, and he reared back as a snake slithered out from under the tree.

"Jean-Luc!" Will cried as the horse pulled back onto his hind feet.

Unable to hold on, Jean-Luc fell from the saddle and crashed into the undergrowth along the side of the road, sliding several yards down the hill in the process.

Will jumped from his horse, looping the reins around a nearby limb. The snake appeared to be gone. He quickly reached out and grabbed hold of the other horse's reins.

"Easy there," he shushed, patting the horse's neck. "Easy." He peered down the hill. "Jean-Luc?"

"I'm all right, I... Ah!" The cry of pain was all too real.

Will tied the horse's reins to another tree limb, made sure the mule's reins were still looped securely around the saddle horn, and then carefully made his way down the hillside.

Jean-Luc was sitting up, his right arm cradled in his lap. In the dim evening light, Will could see the pain etched across his friend's face.

"Is it broken?" he asked, kneeling on the ground beside him.

Jean-Luc nodded. "I'm afraid so." He moved his other hand away, and Will saw the blood on his jacket. "Pretty badly."

Will knew that the bone had broken through the skin. "All right. You just sit tight."

He hurried back up the incline to the mule and found the bolt of cloth he'd bought for Deanna. He unwrapped several feet of the material and tore it off. On his way back down the hill, he found a long, fairly straight stick. Breaking it over his knee several times, he was able to produce two sticks of roughly the same size to use for a splint. He returned to Jean-Luc and knelt beside him.

"This might hurt a little," he warned.

"You're not going to try and set it, are you?" Jean-Luc asked, worry and pain creasing his face.

Will shook his head. "No. I think it'll be best if I just try to cover it and immobilize it. We'll pass by Neil's place before we reach home."

He took his knife out of his pocket and carefully cut away the sleeve of Jean-Luc's jacket and shirt. His forearm was covered in blood, and through the rip in his skin, Will could see the jagged edges of white bone. He noticed that Jean-Luc was purposefully looking away.

"At least there's not too much blood," Will said, as he ripped part of the cloth. "The bones don't appear to have severed the artery."

"Small favors," Jean-Luc grunted through clenched teeth.

Will wrapped the cloth loosely around Jean-Luc's arm, and then tied the bandage in place with smaller strips of cloth. He positioned the two sticks along either side of the arm, and tied them in place as well. He used the rest of the cloth to fashion a sling and draped it around Jean-Luc's shoulder and under his arm.

When Will was finished, Jean-Luc exhaled a long sigh of relief. The pain was almost unbearable, even without Will's ministrations. Perspiration beaded over his face, and the younger man drew a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped Jean-Luc's cheeks and forehead.

Jean-Luc sighed again and stared up at the road. "Well, we'd best be going. Can't stay here all night."

"No, but we can rest a few minutes longer."

"Good," Jean-Luc managed a half-smile and then leaned against Will's shoulder and closed his eyes.

~vVv~


	4. Chapter 4

The dishes had been done and put away. Matilda was asleep, the older children were sitting at the table doing their homework, and Walker was yawning and doing his very best to stay awake. Beverly looked over at her youngest son. He was losing the battle.

"I think it's time the Picards went home," she announced, getting up from her chair.

"But, Mama, I'm not finished with my times tables, and Sam's helpin' me," Andrew protested.

Beverly sighed. "It's late. You can finish them in the morning."

"It is late," Deanna agreed from the chair next to her, a trace of worry evident in her voice.

Beverly shifted her gaze to the woman. "They said they'd be late," she reminded her. But she was worried, too.

"Oh, I'm sure they'll be here soon," Deanna said when she saw the concerned faces at the table looking over at her.

"Can't we stay until they get back?" Margaret asked.

"No," Beverly's response was firm. "Now, gather your books." She held her hands out to the boy sitting at her feet. "Come on, Walker, I'll carry you."

As she picked him up, he snuggled into her arms and wrapped his legs securely around her waist. His head fell to her shoulder, and his eyes closed.

Deanna rose and took an unlit lantern off the mantel. She used a taper from the fire to light it, and then carried it over to the front door. "The moon's out, but take this anyway."

Andrew joined her at the door. "I'll take it," he offered, holding his slate and book in one hand.

"Be careful," Beverly warned following him over to the door with Margaret beside her.

"G'night," Thomas and Sam chorused.

"Goodnight," Beverly said as she passed by Deanna at the door. "Thanks for supper."

Deanna laughed. "No, thank you for supper."

Beverly shrugged. "Well, it was your food."

"I owe you."

"You can pay me back later," Beverly said, gently touching Deanna's stomach. "Now, go get some rest."

~vVv~

He wanted to ride his own horse, but Will insisted that they share his. Several miles later, he was glad that he had. Jean-Luc sat in front of him, bent over his arm protectively. He was in a great deal of pain and would groan sharply whenever the horse took a heavy step. Will had to keep one arm around his waist to keep him steady, and he could feel Jean-Luc's temperature rising, the heat from his body radiating through his back.

"We're almost there," he assured him, strengthening his hold on the man.

Jean-Luc raised his head a fraction of an inch. "I'm fine," he murmured.

"I know," Will whispered.

He turned the horses and the mule off the road, taking the overgrown path to Doctor MacNeill's cabin. He was thankful for the full moon and the silver light it spread. There were shadows, but it was bright enough to see where he was going.

He felt Jean-Luc shiver in his arms, and he stopped, carefully removed his jacket and draped it over the older man's shoulders. He leaned back against Will's chest.

"Won't be long now," Will said, leading the horse further into the woods.

~vVv~

Walker and Margaret were in bed, literally asleep before their heads hit the pillows. Beverly kissed them both gently, and then went out on the front porch in search of Andrew. She found him sitting at the top of the steps, knees pulled up close to his chest, arms folded on top of them, chin propped against his hands. She sat down beside him, assuming almost the same position.

"It's past your bedtime," she reminded him.

He turned his head on his arms and stared over at her. "Can't I wait till Papa gets here?"

Beverly squinted out into the moonlit haze of the yard, beyond the line of the trees. "I don't think so," she answered, although a part of her wanted someone to wait with her.

"You're worried about Papa, aren't you?"

She looked back at him and thought, not for the first time, that Andrew was the oldest eight-year-old she'd ever known. Even more mature than Wesley had been at that age.

"I'm always concerned when he and your Uncle Will are out late. But they'll be here soon. You'll see."

Andrew rolled his eyes. "I can't see if I'm supposed to go to bed," he reasoned.

"No, I suppose not," Beverly admitted, scooting closer to him and wrapping her arm around his shoulder. "I guess you could stay up a little longer."

Andrew leaned his head against his mother's arm. "Papa had a nightmare last night."

It wasn't a question, but Beverly felt that some sort of affirmation and reassurance was necessary. "Oh, just a little one. But he's fine." Andrew sighed and moved restlessly beside her. She pulled him closer. "Really, he is."

There were several moments of silence, and then Andrew spoke again.

"Mama, remember at breakfast when Margaret asked why we didn't move out of the mountains to one of the big cities?"

Beverly studied the top of his head, and then brushed his brown hair out of his eyes. "I remember," she answered tentatively.

"Well, you said we weren't going to move there." He turned his head and looked up at her, his eyes the color of Jean-Luc's. "Does that mean we're gonna live here forever?"

"Forever is a long time, Andrew," she smiled.

"You know what I mean."

She nodded. "Yes, I know what you mean."

And she knew it all too well. Forever was indeed a long time.

"Someday, when you're all grown up, you might want to leave the mountains," she suggested.

"And leave you and Papa here?"

"You could come back for visits."

Andrew stared out into the front yard, and thought for a few seconds. "No," he responded, "I don't think I'd want to leave the mountains. I mean, it's our home." He turned his gaze back to her.

Beverly hugged him closer. "Yes, Andrew, it's our home."

~vVv~

There was light in the cabin's windows, and Will had barely reined the horse to a stop, when the front door opened wide. Neil MacNeill was outlined in the frame: tall, broad-shouldered, his reddish hair even redder back lit with the fire from his hearth.

"Neil, it's Will Riker. Jean-Luc's with me. He's broken his arm."

Neil hurried down the front steps and over to the horse. Together, they helped Jean-Luc dismount, and then, supporting him under the shoulders, they half carried him into the house. Neil settled him into a chair beside the fire and quickly covered his legs with a blanket. Jean-Luc was semi-conscious and the sling around his arm was stained with blood.

"How did this happen?" Neil asked as he set about taking care of the arm.

Will sank into an opposite chair. "His horse shied away from a snake about five miles back. Jean-Luc fell down the hill."

Jean-Luc's eyes creased open. "I didn't mean to," he sighed.

"Whether you meant to or not, you've done some damage to that arm," Neil commented with a sigh of his own.

Jean-Luc looked up at him, exhausted and cold. "But can you fix it?"

"Yeah..." Neil answered slowly in his soft Scottish accent. "But it's going to hurt."

Jean-Luc exhaled a heavy breath. "Let's...get it over with then."

Will reached out and took hold of Jean-Luc's hand, and Neil placed a bit of leather between his teeth.

"You'll need something to bite down on, and if you want to yell, please do."

Neil braced himself and Jean-Luc's arm, and then pulled the separate ends of the bone into place. Will watched as Jean-Luc ground his teeth down on the piece of leather, his own hand crushed in Jean-Luc's tight fist. And then, Jean-Luc's face went white, his eyes fluttered, and he passed out.

Neil moved the arm again, making sure the bone was aligned. He glanced back at Will. "It's just as well he's unconscious. I'm going to have to clean out this wound and sew him up. That would have been almost as painful as setting the bone."

"But he's going to be all right?"

"He'll be fine." Neil ran a hand over Jean-Luc's forehead. "He seems to be running a slight fever, but that's normal with breaks."

Will sighed with relief and squeezed the lax hand he now held. "Thanks, Doc."

~vVv~

Deanna was tired. It seemed like she was always tired lately. But she was restless all at the same time. It was because of the baby, Beverly said. But sometimes, Deanna wasn't sure if that was it.

There were times when she felt as if she were waiting for something or someone. Not the baby. But something else. Something she wasn't sure of. And it worried her.

And Will and Jean-Luc being gone so long worried her. And the new baby worried her.

And she was just worried. And tired. And restless.

She sat down on the edge of her bed for a few moments, but then got back up and walked over to the fireplace. She stared into the flames, and then turned and paced toward the door.

She could feel Sam watching her. She knew when any of her children were awake. But Sam, more so than Thomas or Matilda, had taken after her. His empathic skills were quite good, although he really didn't understand them. And Deanna was at a loss as how to explain. She just made sure that she was always available when he wanted to talk. And she felt that he wanted to talk now.

She went back to the fireplace and sat down in the rocking chair. "Sam," she whispered toward the dark corner of the cabin, "I know you're awake. Why don't you come sit with me?"

A head and a pair of dark, round eyes rose up from the bed. He blinked, and then carefully climbed over Thomas, the long tails of his nightshirt trailing after him. He crossed over to his mother, and Deanna patted the flat arm of the rocking chair. Carefully, Sam perched beside her. She wrapped an arm around him.

"I knew you knew I was awake," he said softly.

"You did?"

He shook his head. "Um-um. You always know." He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "I tried to go to sleep, but..."

"But you're worried about your father," Deanna finished his sentence.

Sam's dark eyes looked down at her. "It's late, Mom. Really late. Is he all right?"

And Deanna knew that he trusted her to know. Without ever having explained it to him, she knew that he sensed the bond she had with Will Riker. Sam understood that there were things that his mother knew, things other people could never understand.

She smiled at him and gently patted his back. "I think he's all right, Sam. I just don't know why he's late."

~vVv~

Beverly glanced at the clock on the mantel for the hundredth time. It was well after midnight now. He'd never been this late before.

Wrapping her dressing gown tighter around her shoulders, she stepped out the front door onto the porch, stared into the silver moonlit darkness, longing to see him coming through the woods.

But there was nothing, except trees. And more trees.

And the mountains.

She leaned against the porch railing and looked up into the sky. It was a clear night, every star bright and definite in the deep blueness. And it was hard to believe that she had spent so many years of her life living among those stars. Well, maybe not those actual stars, but stars so very like them. And there were times, like now, when she could hardly believe that she wasn't still there. On the _Enterprise. _Of course, it would be ten years later, and there was no guarantee that any of them would have still been on the ship. Surely, Will would have taken his own command. Or perhaps Starfleet would have talked Jean-Luc into becoming an admiral. And then Will would have taken over the _Enterprise. _And where would she have been. And who would she have been with.

Beverly sighed and closed her eyes. She didn't have to worry about that now. She knew where she was. And she knew who she belonged to and who belonged to her. Three of them were asleep in the cabin behind her, and she just wished the fourth would come home.

~vVv~

Less than an hour later, Jean-Luc came around. His arm had been set, sewn up, and bandaged. And it hurt like hell. But despite Neil's insistence that he stay the night, Jean-Luc was determined to get home.

He shook his head as he pulled his jacket around his shoulders with one hand. "I have no idea what time it is, but I know it's late. Beverly will be w-worried."

"Deanna will be worried, too. But I can ride by your place, tell Beverly what's happened, and then I can go home. I'll come back in the morning to get you."

"Now that's a good idea," Neil agreed with Will.

"Fine idea," Jean-Luc said firmly, "only that's not what I'm going to do. I'm going home." He dug his good hand into his pocket and pulled out two dollar bills. "Thank you, Neil." He pressed the money into the doctor's hand, and then turned toward the door.

"Jean-Luc..." Will reached out and touched his shoulder.

Jean-Luc turned back. "I'm going home, Will." He cast his eyes in Neil's direction. "Remember, my wife is a doctor."

Neil sighed. "And a damned good one. Tell her to take care of you."

Jean-Luc nodded, opened the door, and stepped out onto the porch.

"Thanks, Neil," Will said, pushing his arms into his own coat.

Neil picked up the blanket from the chair. "Wrap this around him. And don't let him ride alone." He handed the dollar bills to Will. "And slip this back in his coat pocket when he isn't looking," Neil smiled. He followed the men onto the porch. "Jean-Luc, I'll be by tomorrow to check on you. Even though you do have Beverly, I can't let her take away all my business."

"Look forward to seeing you, Doc," Jean-Luc returned, as he allowed Will to help him into the saddle.

Will climbed on to the horse behind him, and surprisingly Jean-Luc didn't protest. He let Will drape the blanket around him, and they set off in the direction of the Picard cabin.

~vVv~


	5. Chapter 5

Beverly heard horses in the yard, which surprised her. Normally, they would have left the horses at Will's and Jean-Luc would have walked home. She hurried out onto the porch. Will was helping Jean-Luc down from his horse. She could see the glare of the white, triangular sling encompassing Jean-Luc's arm and shoulder.

"What happened?" she asked, meeting them halfway. She wrapped an arm around Jean-Luc's waist.

"Just...fell off my horse," Jean-Luc breathed tiredly.

"And broke his arm," Will elaborated.

"Who set it for you?"

Jean-Luc managed a grin as they both helped him up the front steps. "I hate for you to...f-find out this way, but...I've b-been seeing another doctor."

"We stopped by Neil's," Will explained. "He says he'll come by tomorrow."

They were at the door, and Will surrendered his hold on Jean-Luc, his weight shifting to Beverly's shoulder.

"I've got him," she said softly. "You'd better get home. Deanna will be worried."

Will nodded and handed Beverly the cane he held in his hand. "I'll see you in the morning. Don't give her a hard time, Jean-Luc."

Jean-Luc gave a slight laugh. "Not any more than I usually do." He looked up at the tall man beside them. "Thanks, Will. Remind me. . .to never...c-complain about your... mother hen tendencies."

"I'll do that," Will smiled and turned away, headed back to the horses in the yard.

"Let's get you into bed," Beverly suggested, pushing at the door. She could tell he was in pain and exhausted. The creases around his eyes and mouth attested to his discomfort, and the slowness of his speech was a typical sign of fatigue for him.

She'd no sooner opened the door when she heard Walker's voice in the darkness.

"Mama?"

And then Andrew's. "Ma?"

Closely followed by Margaret's. "Is that Papa?"

"Welcome home, Jean." She whispered into his ear as she helped him through the door.

"And glad to be here," he sighed as he sank onto the edge of their bed.

"Papa, are you all right?" Andrew literally jumped from the top of the bunk bed and ran over to his parent's bed. Walker and Margaret followed him.

"I'm fine. I just had...a little accident. I broke my arm."

They all three moved closer to look at the bandaged arm.

"Who fixed it?" Andrew asked.

"Uncle Will and I stopped by Doc MacNeill's. He says...it's going to be just fine."

Beverly watched him with the children as she moved over to the kitchen to get a basin of water. His pain and exhaustion hadn't lessened in the past few minutes, but his first concern was putting their minds at ease. She filled the kettle with water and set it on the hearth to warm. And then she returned to the bed where the children had pressed in close to their father, intent on hearing the story of how he'd fallen off his horse.

"It was a snake?" Margaret exclaimed.

Jean-Luc nodded. "Sure was. It frightened Galileo. But he's all right."

"And so is your father," Beverly added. "But he needs some rest. And you need your sleep."

"Goodnight, Papa," Margaret said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Goodnight." He returned her kiss and then leaned over and placed a kiss on the top of Walker's head, and one on Andrew's. "Sweet dreams."

Beverly herded them back over to their beds and tucked them in, delivering kisses of her own. And then, retrieving the kettle from the hearth, she filled a basin and brought it and a clean towel over to the bed. She lit the lantern on the bedside table, and closed the curtain that separated their bed from the rest of the cabin. She pulled back the covers on the bed, and then looked back at Jean-Luc. He was slumped forward, shoulders hunched. His jacket was still draped around his back.

She removed the jacket and started to unbutton his shirt, but he leaned forward even more and wrapped his left arm around her waist, pressed his head into her stomach.

"I love you," he whispered, holding her as tight as he could with just one arm.

Beverly smoothed her hands gently over his back, felt the heat of his fever. "I love you, too." And they held onto each other.

Long moments passed, and then Jean-Luc pulled back slightly. She looked down into his eyes. "Can I undress you now and put you to bed?"

Jean-Luc smiled, reaching up and pushing strands of hair behind her shoulder. "You can do whatever you'd like. Just...don't expect much of a response."

Beverly kissed him on the forehead and then, quickly and gently, undressed him. She slipped off his boots, socks, trousers, and underwear, and then had to cut away the rest of his shirt to remove it. She helped him into a nightshirt and since only his left arm could go into the sleeve, she left it unbuttoned. Carefully, she eased him back onto the bed, pulled the covers up to his waist, and propped a pillow under his arm. She sat on the edge of the bed beside him, ran her hand over his forehead and cheeks. Then, taking a cloth, she dipped it into the basin of water and began to bathe his face and neck.

He gave her a tired smile, and then closed his eyes. "Feels good," he murmured.

"Shh," she soothed. "Just sleep."

And after a few minutes of trying to stay awake so that he could enjoy the feel of her hands on his body, Jean-Luc gave up and slept.

~vVv~

The cabin was quiet when Will walked through the door. And it was dark, except for the light coming from the fireplace. He frowned slightly as he took off his coat and hung it on a peg by the door. No one, it seemed, had missed him at all. No one was sitting up for him, waiting for him to come home, worried about him in the middle of the woods at night. No one was...

"Goodnight, Dad." In the shadows, Will's eyes picked up the movement of Sam turning over in bed.

Someone had been waiting for him after all. His frown faded into a grin, and he mentally kicked himself for doubting his family's concern. For just at that moment, he felt her. A calm, loving presence in his mind.

He stepped over and pulled aside the curtain around their bed. Deanna was lying down, but in the dim light, he could see that she wasn't asleep. Her dark eyes were staring up at him with relief. He went and sat down carefully on the bed beside her, leaning over and kissing her gently on the lips.

Then he straightened back up. "Sorry," he said softly, not wanting to wake the children. "We, uh...had a bit of an accident."

"An accident?!" Deanna sat up and Will helped her to prop some pillows behind her back.

"Jean-Luc's horse shied away from a snake, and he fell off and broke his arm."

"He's all right, though?"

"He'll be fine. We stopped by Neil's place, and that took us a while." He took her hand in his. "I hope you weren't too worried."

Deanna smiled. "Well, I was...a little bit."

Will cocked his head toward the outer room. "So was Sam?"

She nodded. "Remember...he's our empathic child."

Will kissed Deanna's forehead. "The one most like his mother." His hand gently brushed over her stomach. "And maybe this little guy will be just the same."

Deanna sighed. "Maybe _she _will."

~vVv~


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** Sorry I haven't posted lately. "Real life" has been busy! Thanks for reading.

He slept some, but he was restless, the pain in his arm pulling him awake several times during the night. And Beverly was always there, gently running a damp cloth over his cheeks and forehead, cooling his fevered skin. He wondered if she'd slept at all.

When morning came, and the cabin began to grow light, Jean-Luc carefully pulled himself out of bed, groaning involuntarily as he lifted his arm.

"Jean?" Beverly turned over, looked up at him with concern.

He picked up his dressing gown from the foot of the bed. "Just going to the bathroom," he said quietly, aware that the rest of the family was probably still sleeping. The children always let them know when they were awake.

"Let me help you." She started to get out of bed.

Jean-Luc draped the dressing gown over his shoulders with his left hand. "No." He shook his head. "I think I can m-manage on my own." He reached over and picked up his cane from where it was leaning against the wall. "It's my arm I broke, not my leg."

"Thankfully," Beverly sighed, still halfway out of bed.

"I mean it." Jean-Luc gave her a stern look. "I don't need any help."

Reluctantly, she pulled the covers back over her and settled against the pillows. "If you're not back in ten minutes, can I come searching for you?"

Jean-Luc smiled. "Please do."

Slowly, he made his way through the cabin, stopping to check on the children as he headed toward the back door. They were indeed sleeping soundly, but he knew the early morning stillness wouldn't last for long. He let himself out the door in the kitchen area, and gently closed it behind him.

Their bathroom was actually a small wooden outhouse about forty feet from the back door. It had taken some getting used to, but with time and necessity, he'd grown accustomed to "getting back to nature" when nature called. And there were some benefits to the arrangement. Nothing woke you up faster than a quick dash to the outhouse on a cold winter's morning.

Leaning on his cane, Jean-Luc stepped carefully over the leaf-strewn ground. He knew the way blindfolded by now, but there was always the possibility of tripping over a rock or limb that hadn't been there the day before. He laughed to himself; all he needed was another broken arm.

He reached his destination without mishap, and a few minutes later, he made his way back to the cabin. When he walked through the door, he found Beverly in the kitchen starting the fire in the black, iron stove.

She looked up at him from where she knelt, a piece of kindling in her hand. "Oh, good, I'm glad I didn't have to send out a search party."

"Very funny," he said, closing the door behind him. "But don't you belittle the fact that I made it back in one piece. It just proves that I am not...totally inept, and I may still be useful for something around here."

Beverly fed the last piece of wood into the stove and stood up. Taking a step forward, she cornered Jean-Luc against the door and kissed him on the lips. He responded willingly. Their kiss deepened.

But then, abruptly, Beverly pulled back, took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. "I can think of a few things you're still useful for."

Jean-Luc caught her hand in his. "Should we go back to bed and discover some of them?"

Beverly smiled in seeming agreement, but then gently touched the sling that held his arm. "I'm not sure if you're up to it."

His eyes lit with mischief and desire. "Oh, I'm up to it."

"I'm afraid you can't be."

He blinked, trying to discern some meaning in her words. And just then, the front door swung open.

"Mama, how many horses were here last night?"

Jean-Luc nodded in understanding. The early morning stillness had been broken.

"How many?" Andrew asked again, crossing over to the kitchen.

"Ask your father," Beverly answered, taking the matches from the lock box where she kept them. Striking one of them, she bent and lit the stove. It took a couple of more before the wood lit properly.

Jean-Luc went to the sink and found that Beverly had already filled it with water from the pump. Gratefully, he dipped his left hand into the water and splashed some onto his face. What he really needed was a cold shower, but this would have to do. He scrubbed his hand around the back of his neck and repeated the process.

"Papa?" Andrew tugged on the sleeve of his father's dressing gown. Apparently, he had just asked a question that Jean-Luc had not even heard.

"What?" Jean-Luc turned, his face dripping. Beverly handed him a towel and he dried himself off.

"How many horses were here last night?" Andrew's voice held a tinge of exasperation.

"Horses?" Jean-Luc questioned, patting the towel over his cheeks.

"When Uncle Will brought you home. How many?"

"Let's see." Jean-Luc leaned against the kitchen counter. "When your Uncle Will brought me home last night...I believe...there were...two horses."

Andrew's face fell. "Two?"

"Just two."

"But there are too many tracks."

"Too many tracks?"

Andrew nodded forcefully. "Um-um. I counted the hoof prints."

Jean-Luc fixed his son with a steady gaze. "Do you mean to tell me that you have been out there counting hoof prints?"

Andrew stood a little straighter. "Yes, sir. And there are too many for just two horses."

"I see." Jean-Luc caught Beverly's eyes from where she stood at the stove, mixing up a pot of oatmeal. Their son was quite a detective. "Dixon Hill would be impressed," he murmured, and Beverly smiled.

Andrew sighed. "Who's Dick's son Hill?"

"Dixon Hill," Jean-Luc corrected. "And he's...just a character in a book. A detective who looks for clues."

"Well, I looked for clues, and I found a lot of hoof prints."

"Yes, you did. And I'm not really sure what to tell you, except to assure you that there were only two horses in the yard last night, Galileo and Rysa." Jean-Luc smiled, remembering that Deanna had not been too happy with Will's choice of a name for his horse; but the name had stuck, regardless of her thoughts on the matter.

"But, Papa, there are too many," Andrew asserted yet again.

Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow. "Then, it looks as though you have a mystery on your hands. And since today is Saturday, you have all day to solve it."

"Andrew, go wake up Margaret and Walker. Tell them breakfast is almost ready," Beverly suggested.

Andrew looked up at his mother, then glanced over to the other side of the room where his sister and brother were sleeping. The cabin was small; all Beverly had to do was call their names and Margaret and Walker would hear her. Andrew sighed. He knew when he was being asked to "get lost." And he knew there was more to this "mystery" than just hoof prints. With a shrug of his shoulders, he left the kitchen area.

Beverly turned toward Jean-Luc. "Are you going to tell him?"

He shook his head. "No. I thought I'd let him go down to Will's barn and discover it himself."

"Jean-Luc, he'll want to ride it," Beverly warned, an edge to her voice.

"That's one reason why I bought it," he returned slowly.

"He can't go riding alone," she insisted.

"I'll go with him."

Beverly glared at him. "You will not. I don't want you riding for at least a week."

"A week?" He began to shake his head again. "Beverly, I have too much work to do. Will and I have to check the traps, and we were going to ride up to the high meadow to check on those crabapple trees."

"Well, he'll have to do it without you." She turned back to the stove.

Her word was final. Jean-Luc knew that. There was no use arguing. He sighed, and threw the towel down on the counter.

"And besides, I want you to rest for a few days," Beverly continued. "You've been working too hard lately."

Jean-Luc started to protest again but stopped at the sound of footsteps pounding up the front steps and across the porch. The loud knock at the door startled all of them. Margaret and Walker, who had been ignoring Andrew's attempts to rouse them, sat up straight in their beds. All three children stared over at their parents.

"Aunt Beverly?!" A voice called through the closed door. It was Sam.

Beverly crossed quickly to the door and lifted the latch. Sam tumbled inside, bent over, hands on knees, his breathing heavy, cheeks red. He'd been running.

"Sam, is it your mother? Is it the baby?" Beverly rubbed her hands over the boy's back, feeling the pounding of his heartbeat under her palms.

He nodded, still gasping for breath. "Dad...says...come quick."

Beverly glanced over at Jean-Luc, then went over to their bedroom area. She drew the curtain closed behind her, and taking off her robe and gown, she dressed quickly, pulling on a pair of Jean-Luc's trousers and one of her shirts. She would make it down the hill faster if she didn't have to worry about tripping on one of her long skirts. She cinched a belt around her waist, and pulled on a pair of ankle boots. She emerged a few minutes later, her medical bag in hand.

Jean-Luc had walked Sam over to one of the benches at the kitchen table and was sitting beside him, one hand gently rubbing his back. Andrew, Margaret, and Walker were crowded around them.

Jean-Luc looked up at his wife. "I'll get the children dressed and fed, and we'll be down there within the hour."

She nodded. "Sam, why don't you stay here and eat something. I'll tell your father you're here."

Sam shook his head, getting up from the bench. "No. I'll go with you."

Jean-Luc smiled, sensing the boy's devotion to his mother.

Sam crossed over to Beverly and grabbed hold of her medical bag. "I'll carry this," he offered, and then headed out the door.

Beverly cast a meaningful glance in Jean-Luc's direction. "I'll see you in a while," she said, then followed Sam out into the early morning sunshine, closing the door behind her.

"I wanna see Aunt D'anna's baby," Walker spoke up.

"You can't see it," Margaret explained with all the wisdom of a seven-year-old. "It hasn't been born yet."

"It might be here already," Andrew countered. "It could have come while Sam was on his way here. Right, Papa?"

Jean-Luc pushed himself to his feet, suppressing a groan when a twinge of pain lanced through his arm. "It's a possibility," he replied, turning back to the stove and the pot of oatmeal that needed stirring. He hoped the baby would not arrive until Beverly got there. For Will's sake, he smiled, remembering that the tall man had almost passed out at the birth of his first son. Jean-Luc glanced down at Andrew, his smile broadening. He'd felt somewhat queasy at the birth of his own son. How something so tiny could reduce you to a state of near panic, Jean-Luc had yet to figure out. But he had to admit his own heart was beating faster at the idea of welcoming a new niece or nephew into the world.

"You three hurry up and get dressed so we can eat."

"And then go see the baby," Walker shouted, scampering over to the trunk where his clothes were kept. He pulled out his underwear, trousers, and shirt and brought them back to his father.

Somehow, with only one good arm, Jean-Luc managed to stir the oatmeal and dress his youngest son.

~vVv~

Dressing Walker had been easier than dressing himself, Jean-Luc discovered a half hour later as he struggled with his shirt. He'd deliberately chosen one that was too big for him in the hope that his thickly bandaged arm would fit into the sleeve, but he wasn't having much luck.

"You need to cut the sleeve," Andrew observed from where he sat at the end of his parents' bed.

Jean-Luc stared down at him, his arm half way into the sleeve. "I think you're right. Can you go get the scissors?"

Instead of getting up, Andrew opened his mouth and yelled. "Margaret, bring Papa the scissors."

Jean-Luc winced at the strength of his son's voice echoing in his ears. The pain in his arm had traveled to the base of his neck, and the noise level didn't help his pounding headache. "Andrew, I could have done that. I asked you to go and-"

Margaret appeared at his elbow, scissors in hand. "Here, Papa," she said softly, holding them out to him.

He smiled. "Thank you." He took the scissors and managed to cut the material of the shirt sleeve along the seam. His arm slid the rest of the way into the sleeve.

"I'll put them back," Margaret offered, reaching for the scissors.

"No, thank you," Jean-Luc answered, extending the scissors toward his son. "Andrew can put them back."

Andrew took them and scowled slightly. "We gotta go, Papa," he demanded, hurrying over to the fireplace to replace the scissors in his mother's sewing kit.

Jean-Luc wasn't sure whether his son's eagerness could be attributed to the prospect of a new baby cousin, or the mystery of the hoof prints in the yard, but he agreed with him nevertheless. They did indeed need to go. It had taken them almost an hour to eat and get dressed, and he was both curious and worried about the situation taking place in the Riker cabin.

He slipped the cloth sling over his shoulder and lifted his injured arm into it. Then he managed to button the top three buttons of his shirt with his left hand, and tuck the shirt tails into his trousers. He draped his coat around his shoulders, took his cane from against the wall, and pointed it toward the door.

"All right troop, let's go."

The children rushed out ahead of him, and he followed.

It was a beautiful day to be born, Jean-Luc thought as he trailed after his children down the sloping hill. The sky was a clear autumn blue, the air crisp and clean, and the sun shone brightly amid fluffy white clouds. He smiled as he watched Andrew, Margaret, and Walker dancing along ahead of him. He could remember their births so clearly, almost as if it had been yesterday. And he could remember the births of each of Will and Deanna's children as well. His niece and nephews. And that was how he thought of them. They were a family here on this mountain, on this world and in this time. A close family that was in the process of extending itself even as he thought about it. He smiled. Despite the pain in his arm, Jean-Luc felt good. Very good indeed.

~vVv~


	7. Chapter 7

The good feelings he'd harbored on the way down the mountain dissipated when he met his wife at the door of the Riker's cabin. He was barely inside when she pushed Matilda into his good arm, at the same time directing Sam and Thomas past him into the front yard where her own children were standing.

"The baby's not here yet, Jean-Luc," she said quietly, glancing over at the curtains that surrounded Will and Deanna's sleeping area. "It's a difficult labor. I don't think the children should be here."

Jean-Luc's face tightened with worry. Somehow, with six children between them, the previous births had all been relatively easy. He settled Matilda on his hip. "Should I go get Neil?"

Beverly shook her head. "Not yet. But, can you take the children to the mission house and see if Ruby Mae can look after them for a while?"

Ruby Mae was one of the teenagers in Cutter Gap who helped out at the mission house.

Jean-Luc nodded. "We'll have to take the horses."

Beverly sighed, silently rescinding her order for him not to ride. "I know. Sam can handle Rysa, and it looks like Andrew is going to learn to ride that mule of his sooner rather than later."

A scream pierced the cabin, and then Will's voice. "Beverly?"

Jean-Luc could hear the fear in the man's tone.

"I'm coming, Will." She looked back at Jean-Luc. "You come back with Alice or Christy if you can. And... perhaps you should stop by Neil's place after all."

"Alice is probably still in Cataleechi." He smiled slightly, hoping to reassure her. "But I'll bring Neil and Christy. And we'll be back soon." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Deanna's in good hands," he murmured.

And then another cry of pain pulled Beverly back to the sleeping area. "Hurry," she said as she disappeared behind the curtain.

Jean-Luc turned and stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind him. Only then did he realize that with Matilda in his arm, he couldn't use his cane to walk. And although he felt a little steadier on his feet than he had the day before, the pain in his arm and head, combined with his concern for Deanna, reminded him that he would probably need all the support he could get just to make it into the barn and saddle the horses.

"Margaret?" he called to his daughter.

She skipped up onto the porch beside him.

"Can you hold Matilda for me?"

Margaret took the little girl into her arms, and Matilda smiled and laughed, playfully pulling at the older girl's braids.

"How's Aunt Deanna? Sam said the baby wasn't here yet."

Jean-Luc smiled down at her. "No, the baby's still not here. And Aunt Deanna's tired, but your mother and...Uncle Will are taking care of her. "

They walked down the steps into the yard and headed toward the barn. The boys raced over and joined them. Jean-Luc noticed that despite their apparent energy, Sam and Thomas were quiet and worried. He longed to put a reassuring hand on both of their shoulders, but without a hand to spare, he had to make do with the gentleness of his voice instead.

"Your mother's going to be just fine," he said softly. "Sometimes it t-takes a while for a new baby to be born."

"It didn't with Matilda," Thomas remarked, staring over at his little sister. Like Margaret, he was seven, and he could remember when Matilda was born.

"Every baby is different, Thomas," Jean-Luc explained.

Sam looked up at him, an anxious expression on his face. "Aunt Beverly wants us to go to the mission house, doesn't she?"

"She thinks it would be a good idea."

"But Mom's gonna be all right?" he asked, seeking reassurance.

"She'll be fine. And so will the baby. Now, I'm going to need your help saddling the horses."

Sam nodded. "Yes, sir." And he ran the last few feet to the barn door, Andrew right behind him.

"I can help, too," Andrew insisted, helping to pull the heavy wooden door open.

The boys scooted inside, and when Jean-Luc and the younger children reached the barn, they found Sam already spreading a saddle blanket over Rysa's back. But Andrew was frozen, staring at the mule in the stall beside Galileo. He turned around and cast big round eyes at his father.

"Papa?" he whispered. "Is he ours?"

Jean-Luc shook his head, suppressing the grin that longed to spread across his face. "Well, not exactly ours."

Andrew frowned.

"He's yours."

The frown disappeared. "Mine? Really?"

Jean-Luc allowed the grin to show. "Really. We don't have a saddle for him yet, but a blanket will do just fine. Do you think you and Margaret can ride him on your own?"

Andrew smiled, literally from ear to ear. "Yes, sir."

~vVv~

Will leaned against the wooden headboard of their bed, his arms wrapped securely around Deanna. She rested against him, her head cradled on his broad chest. She was exhausted, her face flushed, her breathing heavy. Gently, Will brushed long strands of her hair back from her cheeks, his fingers lingering against her soft, warm skin. The pain and contractions had subsided for a while, and though they would return soon enough, Deanna took much needed comfort in the meantime.

"Will?" she murmured, her voice low and weak.

"Shh," he soothed, his palm caressing her cheeks. He kissed her on the forehead. "Just rest. You're doing fine."

Deanna looked to the side of the bed. "Beverly?"

The doctor sat next to her, her hand lying gently on top of her stomach. Beverly smiled. "Will's right. You're doing just fine."

Deanna shook her head. She wasn't fine. She knew that. The baby should have come by now. "Beverly..." Fresh tears flooded into her eyes.

"It's all right," Beverly insisted, taking one of Deanna's hands in hers. "This little one's just taking her time."

Deanna's face tightened as she felt the beginnings of another contraction.

Will held her closer, pressed his lips to her ear. "I'm here, imzadi," he whispered. "You're all right."

~vVv~

They headed toward the mission house, like a ragged Noah's ark, two by two, by three. Sam and Thomas in the lead on Rysa, Andrew and Margaret next on the mule, and Jean-Luc bringing up the rear with Matilda and Walker. He watched with pride as Sam and Andrew rode ahead of him. They were natural horsemen, even if one of their horses was a mule. Andrew guided the long eared animal down the mountain path as if he truly were sitting astride a champion thoroughbred.

When they reached the mission house, situated in the large clearing below the school, the children dismounted. Sam came and helped lower Walker and Matilda to the ground. David Grantland and Christy Huddleston appeared on the front porch of the large house.

"Good morning," the young dark-haired preacher greeted them.

"Good morning," Jean-Luc returned. "I was hoping Ruby Mae was here. I need someone to help look after the children."

"She's in the kitchen," David replied. "Is Will and Deanna's baby on its way?"

Jean-Luc nodded. "Yes. In fact, Beverly could use some help." He glanced in Christy's direction.

"I'll get my coat," she said without hesitation, turning back into the house. "Ruby Mae!" she called for the girl.

"The children are welcome to stay here," David assured, coming down the steps and taking Matilda from Sam. He ruffled the boy's hair. "I think Ruby Mae was planning on baking cookies this morning. I'm sure she'd love some help." He noticed the sling encasing Jean-Luc's arm. "Are you all right?"

Jean-Luc winced in embarrassment. "Fine. Just ran into a little trouble yesterday on the way home from El Pano."

Christy came back onto the porch with Ruby Mae behind her.

"I'd be pleased to look after the children, Mister Jean-Luc," the auburn-haired girl offered.

"I do appreciate it, Ruby Mae." He looked down at the boys. "Sam, let Miss Christy take Rysa, and Andrew you keep the mule here."

"Yes, sir," they chorused.

David handed Matilda to Ruby Mae and helped Christy onto the horse. The young teacher looked down at him uncertainly.

"You'll do fine," he said quietly, and then stepped back. "Don't worry about the children, Jean-Luc. They'll be fine."

"Thank you, David," he called as he reined Galileo across the yard.

Christy followed him on Rysa.

Walker ran after them, waving. "Bye, Papa."

"Goodbye, Walker," Jean-Luc threw over his shoulder. "I'll be back for you as soon as your new cousin is born."

~vVv~

A half hour later, Jean-Luc, Christy, and Neil MacNeill rode up to the Riker cabin. The doctor and teacher dismounted and hurried inside. After securing the horse's reins to the porch railing, Jean-Luc followed them. He found Will standing just inside the door. He looked exhausted. Jean-Luc leaned against the wall beside him.

Will looked over and smiled faintly. "It's…getting crowded in their now." He bent his head in the direction of the sleeping area, a few feet from where they stood.

Jean-Luc returned his friend's smile. "She's in good hands."

Will nodded. "Lots of good hands."

Jean-Luc glanced over at the bed. The curtain was partially drawn back, and he could see Beverly sitting next to Deanna, Neil beside them. Christy was in the kitchen. _Boiling water, _Jean-Luc supposed.

He reached out and put a hand on Will's shoulder. He could feel the tension in the younger man's muscles. "Relax, Will. We've been through this before."

Will shook his head absently, his eyes still fastened on Deanna. She seemed to be resting, her eyes closed, her breathing deep. Beverly was wiping her cheeks and forehead with a damp cloth.

"I know," Will replied. He cast his eyes in Jean-Luc's direction. "How are the children?"

"They're fine. Ruby Mae and David are looking after them."

Will sighed. "That's good." He stretched his shoulders, straightened his back, and with a deep breath of firm resolve, he moved back over to the bed. Sitting down opposite Beverly, he took the cloth from her hand and took over bathing Deanna's face.

Deanna, sensing his presence, as well as the shifting of his weight on the edge of the bed, opened her eyes. She smiled weakly up at him. "She's...she's taking her time," she murmured.

Will brushed damp strands of Deanna's hair back from her face. "She just wants to be fashionably late."

"You said…she," Deanna said with a touch of a teasing tone in her voice.

Will shrugged in resignation. "It must be a little girl. We all know it takes women longer to get ready before they make an appearance."

~vVv~

It was a long morning, and an even longer afternoon. Finally, after almost ten hours of labor, the Riker's fourth child made her entrance into the world.

Will watched as Beverly bathed the infant in warm water, and then wrapped her in a blanket. He leaned over and kissed Deanna on the forehead. "She's beautiful."

Deanna nodded and smiled, tears gathering in her eyes. Beverly came back to the bed and delivered the small bundle into Deanna's arms.

"Will's right. She is beautiful. And healthy."

"And has a good set of lungs," Neil agreed, laughing over the baby's lusty cries.

"Congratulations, Deanna, Will." Christy stood at the foot of the bed, smiling at them.

Jean-Luc stood beside her. "She's a beauty, all right."

"Just like her mother," Will added, kissing Deanna again, and then wrapping his arm closer around her and his new daughter.

"Did you ever decide on a name?" Beverly asked, suspecting that they hadn't since they'd never agreed as to whether it was a girl or a boy. At least, not until a few hours before the baby's birth.

"Well, I was partial to Benjamin," Will grinned. "But, I don't think that would be appropriate."

Deanna drew in a deep breath, softly tracing her fingers over the baby's delicate features. The infant had stopped crying, but her large dark eyes were wide and alert, as if she were taking them all in, even though they were all aware that a newborn's vision was limited. Deanna smiled. "I think...I'd like to name her after my mother."

Will arched an eyebrow and exchanged a look with Jean-Luc. The older man grinned. Images of Lwaxana Troi were still clear in all of their memories.

"That's an awfully long name for a little girl," Will said lightly, not mentioning the actual name. Lwaxana was a bit unusual, even among the unique names of the mountain people.

Deanna looked up at him. "We could...call her Lucy," she suggested.

And Will nodded. "I think your mother would approve. And so do I."

"Well, then, now that we have that settled, I think Deanna and Lucy could use some rest," Beverly announced.

"I agree," Neil concurred.

Christy turned toward the kitchen. "I think I'll go prepare something for dinner."

"Christy..." Deanna started to object.

"No arguments," Neil interrupted. He glanced over at the teacher. "I think that's a fine idea."

Christy smiled in agreement and went into the kitchen.

With a final kiss, Will released Deanna and allowed Beverly to take the baby from them. "You get some rest," he whispered, getting up from the bed.

Deanna sighed. "The children..." Her voice trailed off. She was past exhaustion.

"Don't worry," Will assured her. "Just sleep, and you can see them when you wake up."

Beverly had settled the baby into the cradle next to the bed. She looked up at Deanna. "Lucy's already asleep," she said quietly. "I think her mother should follow her example."

Deanna smiled faintly and closed her eyes.

Beverly drew Will and Jean-Luc away from the bed. "Everything's fine here," she began."Why don't you go collect the children?"

Will glanced back anxiously at the bed.

Beverly placed a hand on his arm. "I mean it Will. She's fine. And you need to get out of the cabin. You've been closed up in here all day. Get some fresh air. Go get the children. Tell them about Lucy." She glanced over at her husband. "Jean-Luc will go with you," she proposed, although she still disliked the idea of him riding.

Jean-Luc nodded. "Beverly's right. If it's been a long day for us, you can only imagine how long it's been for the children." He grinned. "And for Ruby Mae and David," he added.

Will shook his head in agreement, and rubbed a hand over his beard. "You're right. Let's go break the news to them. And rescue Ruby Mae and the preacher."

Beverly ushered them out the door. "When you get back, we'll have dinner ready."

~vVv~


	8. Chapter 8

When they returned, with the children in riotous tow, the table had already been set for dinner. They knew that Neil and Christy were no longer there, for they had passed the doctor and teacher on their way back from the mission house.

"I tried to get them to stay and eat with us," Beverly explained as she finished setting bowls of vegetables on the table, "but they insisted that this should be a family meal, with our new family member present." She smiled in the direction of the fireplace where Deanna sat in the rocking chair holding baby Lucy.

The children had crowded around the new baby as soon as they had tumbled into the cabin.

"She sure is little," Thomas remarked, studying his newborn sister.

"She's supposed to be little," Sam countered, giving Thomas a superior older brother glare. "She's a baby."

"Thomas is right," Andrew spoke up. "I don't remember Matilda being that little."

At the sound of her name, Matilda looked up from where she stood at her mother's knee. "Baby," she smiled, reaching out and patting the blanket. "Mine."

The children laughed.

"Matilda thinks Lucy's her baby," Thomas grinned.

Deanna ran her fingers lovingly over Matilda's cheek. "Well, she is her baby. Lucy belongs to all of us." She turned her eyes toward her second son. "And you and Andrew are right, and very observant, Thomas. Lucy is smaller than Matilda was when she was born. But she's healthy, and I have a feeling that she'll grow fast."

"Dad thought she was going to be a boy," Sam said, looking over to where his father sat at the table.

Will shrugged his shoulders. "I was wrong this time."

"Your family's even now," Andrew announced.

Thomas squinted at him. "What do you mean... even?"

"Two girls, two boys."

"Hey, that's right." Margaret glanced at Andrew, then over at their father, who was sitting next to Will at the table. "We need another girl in our family."

"I, uh..." Jean-Luc swallowed and coughed. "I...I think the Picard family is...fine just the way it is."

"But Papa, everything's uneven now," Margaret persisted, going over to the table. Walker followed her.

"I wanna baby," he lisped, crawling onto his father's lap.

Jean-Luc held him awkwardly on his knee with his good arm. He gave Will a sideways glare. "Just look what you've done," he mumbled.

Will laughed, but stopped when Beverly reached out and swatted him softly on the shoulder. This was no laughing matter. She and Jean-Luc had decided that, barring any unforeseen surprises, Walker would be their last child. She didn't like to disappoint her eager children, but the decision had been made.

"Margaret, Walker, you have a brand new baby cousin," she reminded them. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to settle for that."

Margaret breathed a loud sigh, as if the very weight of the world had settled upon her shoulders. "Oh...all right."

"I think it's time to eat," Jean-Luc suggested, changing the subject. He looked hopefully toward Beverly. And she didn't let him down.

"Your father's right. Dinner's ready. Everybody, come sit down and eat before it gets cold."

The children eagerly arranged themselves around the table and, with the help of their fathers, started serving their plates. Beverly went over and sat down beside Deanna. They exchanged weary smiles.

"You should be back in bed," Beverly chided softly.

Deanna sighed. "We should probably all be in bed."

Beverly glanced back at the table. "I have a feeling that once the children have eaten, they'll be ready to go to sleep. Especially those two big ones," she laughed, referring to Will and Jean-Luc. Deanna smiled in agreement, understanding the meaning of her words. "Why don't I stay the night?" Beverly offered.

But Deanna shook her head. "No. We'll be fine. Don't forget, this isn't my first."

"Oh, that's right. I seem to remember delivering three others."

Deanna reached out and took hold of Beverly's hand. "Thank you," she whispered, squeezing her fingers.

Beverly looked into Deanna's dark eyes and saw their years of trust and friendship. "You're welcome," she returned.

~vVv~

Jean-Luc and Beverly helped Will tuck his family into their respective beds before they left for home. Their own children were asleep on their feet. Except for Walker, who was already off his feet and hanging onto Jean-Luc's neck, his legs wrapped securely around his father's waist.

"We'll take the mule up the hill with us," Jean-Luc told Will as they stepped out the front door onto the porch.

"Dixon Hill," Andrew murmured, looking up from where he was leaning sleepily against his father's hip.

Will arched one eyebrow. "What about Dixon Hill?" he asked, recognizing the name of Jean-Luc's favorite detective.

"That's what I named my mule," Andrew answered possessively.

Jean-Luc smiled, pleased with his son's choice in names. "Do you think you and Margaret are awake enough to ride Dixon Hill if I guide him by the reins?"

Andrew nodded, and Margaret and Beverly joined them. Beverly took Walker from Jean-Luc's arms.

"Deanna's sleeping soundly and so is Lucy. I won't treat you like a new father and tell you what to expect. I'm sure you already know." She leaned over and kissed Will on the cheek. "So, you get some rest while you can."

He took a deep, cleansing breath of the night air. "I will," he promised. "And thank you. Both. You know we wouldn't have been able to-"

"Shh, Will," Beverly cut him off. "None of us would have made it without each other." She shifted Walker in her arms. "We'd best be getting home."

"Goodnight, Will. We'll come by tomorrow."

"Do you need a lantern to get home?"

Jean-Luc studied the night sky. The moon was full, and the surrounding woods were bathed in silver, white light. He shook his head. "No. I don't think so." He looked over at Beverly who had her arms full with Walker, and then down at his own arm in the sling, and his other hand holding his cane. And then at Margaret and Andrew, their eyes barely open. "Besides, I don't know who would carry it."

Will nodded in understanding. "Let me get the mule out for you then."

"No," Jean-Luc protested. "I just have to put a bridle on him. I can manage. Now go get some rest."

Will smiled and went back into the cabin. The Picards crossed the yard to the barn, and minutes later, they set out for home, Margaret and Andrew astride the mule, Jean-Luc leading them, and Beverly still carrying Walker.

It was a beautiful night, and Jean-Luc wished that they weren't all so tired so that they could appreciate it more. The sky was a clear, deep midnight blue, and millions of stars winked above them. In the moon's glow, he could see Beverly's face, and he knew she was looking at the stars just as he was.

"They're lovely, aren't they?" he said softly.

"Yes. But so far away." Settling Walker on her other hip, she reached out and lightly wrapped her arm around Jean-Luc's waist. Although it slowed them down to walk so close to each other, neither of them cared. It just felt so good to be together, as a couple and a family, with the vast sky above them and this world at their feet.

~vVv~

When they arrived home, Jean-Luc helped Beverly settle the children into bed, and then he returned to the yard to take care of Dixon Hill. Although they usually kept Galileo stabled in the Riker's barn, they did have a barn of their own. Jean-Luc led the mule into a stall and removed his bridle. He made sure that there were water and oats in the feed barrels and then, with a gentle pat on the mule's neck, he left the barn and headed back to the cabin.

And he heard something.

He stopped in the middle of the yard and slowly looked around. What had been a comforting darkness only minutes before now seemed eerie. His ears strained to hear the noise again. And his attentiveness was rewarded. The rustling came from the far side of the barn. He turned and took a step back.

"Who's there?" he called softly, not wanting his family to hear him in the cabin. No use worrying them if it were nothing. Which it probably was. Just an animal no doubt. And yet, he felt the skin on the back of his neck prickle. "If you're there, come out."

There was another rustling, and then a shadow appeared from around the corner of the barn. In the moonlight, Jean-Luc could see the paleness of the figure's face, and even as a fist clutched his heart with fear, his mind registered the identity of the person.

"Captain?" The modulated voice spoke clearly.

Jean-Luc drew in a sudden strangled breath. "Data?" His voice was barely a whisper.

"Yes, sir. It is I." The man came closer, and Jean-Luc could see that it was indeed his former second officer. "I am sorry to surprise you."

"That's...an understatement," Jean-Luc mumbled, swaying on his feet as the full force of his realization hit him.

"Are you all right, sir?" Data had reached him, and he put out a hand and touched Jean-Luc's good arm, steadying him.

The touch was firm and real, the fingers that grasped his arm long and golden. It was Data. "I...I will be. I think." He stared at the android. "How...how did you find us?"

"That is a long and complicated answer, Captain. It would take some time for me to sufficiently explain. Your shuttle was caught in a gap in the space-time continuum and thrown back into this century. The important thing is that we have found you and are prepared to transport you back to the ship."

"The..._Enterprise?_" Jean-Luc questioned. It had been ten years; would Data still be serving onboard the _Enterprise?_

"Yes, sir. The _Enterprise." _He answered without hesitating.

"Who's the captain?" Jean-Luc asked.

In the moon's light, he could see Data's face tighten with concern.

"You are still the captain of the _Enterprise_," he explained. "We are aware that some time has passed for you here, but in our century, you and Commander Riker, Counselor Troi, and Doctor Crusher have only been missing for two weeks."

Data's words hit him hard, and he felt his knees go weak. The hand around his arm tightened its hold.

"Two...weeks?" he managed.

"Yes, sir."

He shook his head in disbelief. "Data…we've been here for...almost ten years. We have..." He swallowed and licked his lips; his throat was dry. "We have families. Children."

Data nodded. "We are aware of that, sir. We have found a relatively stable window in time and have been able to use our sensors to monitor you before I transported down."

Jean-Luc squinted, exhaustion, confusion, and surprise dulling his mind. "Relatively stable…window?"

"As I said, Captain, it would take me some...time to explain. We believe the window will remain open for approximately seventy-two hours - sufficient time to evacuate you and your families."

"Yes, of course." A part of him wanted to tell his second officer to take them all now, to transport them back to the ship immediately. But the reasonable part of him, the part that had successfully captained Starfleet's flagship for so many years, overruled his first impulse. "You're sure the window is stable?"

"There is a one-point-four-six percent margin for error," Data answered.

And Jean-Luc smiled at the android's precision. One-point-four-six was a margin he would have to live with for a while. He had more lives to consider now than just Beverly's, Will's, and Deanna's. The children would have to be prepared to transport to the _Enterprise. _And if seeing Data after all these years was a shock for him, he couldn't even imagine how the children would take it.

Behind him, he heard the door of the cabin open, and then Beverly's soft footfalls on the porch.

"Jean-Luc?" He heard the edge of fear in her voice. He knew she could see that there were two of them in the yard.

He turned. "Beverly, I think...you'd better come out here."

She descended the steps slowly, her arms wrapped securely around her, and it was only then that Jean-Luc noticed that the night air had grown colder.

"Who are you talking..." Her voice trailed off as she came closer, and he heard her gasp.

Quickly, he stepped over to her and closed his hand around her arm, supporting her as Data had supported him only minutes earlier. But then, he slid his arm around her shoulders, and pulled her close to him.

"Data?" she whispered into the darkness.

"Hello, Doctor."

Jean-Luc could feel her trembling, and he realized that he was still shaking himself. She turned her eyes on him. "Jean..."

"It's...a long story." He looked back at Data. "We...we can't invite you in yet. The children..."

"I understand, sir." Data handed a communicator to him. "The frequency is set so that the ship can monitor and respond to your hail through the window. We can keep in contact with each other. We will wait for your instructions. And...we look forward to seeing all of you onboard ship soon."

"The ship?" Beverly's confusion had risen, and Jean-Luc felt that he should get them both into the cabin so that they could sit down and discuss the situation.

"I'll explain. Let's go inside." He glanced at Data. "I'll be in contact."

"Yes, sir." Data touched his own communicator. "One to beam up," he intoned. And the column of light associated with the transporter enveloped him, and within seconds he was gone. Almost as if he'd never been there. But he had been. The shocked look on Beverly's face was enough to convince Jean-Luc.

"Jean..." she murmured again.

"Let's go inside." He turned her around and leaning against each other in mutual support, they made their way towards the cabin.

~vVv~

They'd drawn the curtains closed around their bed, and then talked in hushed tones for over an hour. And still, they could not quite believe the reality of the situation. But it was real.

"I'll have to go tell Will and Deanna. This really should be a group discussion."

Beverly leaned her head against his good shoulder. "It's late, Jean. Perhaps we should wait until morning. Data said we had seventy-two hours."

He nodded and looked longingly at the pillows on the bed. He was tired, and despite the adrenaline flowing through his system, he wanted nothing more than to lie down next to Beverly and close his eyes.

"I suggest we try and get some sleep," Beverly announced, ever the voice of reason where their health was concerned.

She stood up and began to undress. Jean-Luc sat and watched. Even after all their years together, the sight of her preparing for bed was something he cherished. She was so beautiful. She slipped out of the trousers, shirt, and undergarments, and then drew her nightgown down over her head, hesitating long enough for Jean-Luc to fully appreciate the graceful curves of her body. When she was finished putting on her pajamas, she returned to his side and helped him undress. Her hands lingered on his skin as she pulled off his clothing, gently massaging tired, tense muscles in the process. She started to put on his nightshirt, but he waved it away. It had been constricting the night before, awkward with his bandaged arm.

"It's cold tonight," Beverly reminded him, rubbing her fingers over his shoulders. He was only wearing a pair of long cotton undershorts.

He shook his head. "You'll keep me warm," he smiled tiredly up at her.

"I'll try," she whispered, leaning over and kissing him tenderly on the lips.

He responded, and their kiss deepened. His arm went around her, and he pulled her down on the bed beside him, their arms and legs entwining. "I love you," he murmured long moments later. He ran his fingers through the soft red strands of her hair.

Beverly's head lay on the pillow next to his, and she stared deeply into his hazel green eyes. She drew in a deep breath, her fingertips tracing the line of his jaw and cheekbones. "I love you, Jean. And I love...I love our life here, with the children."

Jean-Luc's hand settled on her neck, his thumb rubbing her chin. "We have to go back, Bev. This...this isn't our time. It isn't our world."

Beverly swallowed around the lump that had formed in her throat.

"I...I know. But it is the children's world. It's their home. It's the only home they've ever known."

"Their home is with us. They're our children. And whether they were born in the twentieth century or the twenty-fourth, they belong where we belong." He took a short breath and held it for a moment. Then released it slowly. "And we belong on the _Enterprise. _All of us. "

He kissed her again, deeply. And despite their exhaustion and the pain in his arm, they made love. Perhaps for the last time in this bed, in this cabin, Beverly thought fleetingly as Jean-Luc's body covered hers. And then, all thoughts were gone, except for the awareness of each other's touch and the depth of their feelings.

~vVv~


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: **Thanks for reading. I appreciate the reviews!

Jean-Luc left for the Rikers' cabin early the next morning. The sun had not yet risen, and the children were still sound asleep.

"After the children wake up, after they've eaten breakfast, come down to Will and Deanna's with them. We'll...have to try to explain." He sighed. It wouldn't be easy.

Beverly nodded and kissed his cheek, running her hand over the stubble that was badly in need of a shave. "We'll be there soon." She knew that he and Will needed time to discuss the details of the situation. They were friends, but there had always been the element of captain and first officer in their friendship, even after all these years. If Jean-Luc still had a ready room, then he and Will would need to disappear behind the door for a while to review their mission.

In the early, pre-light of dawn, Jean-Luc made his way down the mountain, more by feel than sight. The rocky ground was familiar under his feet, and he knew the path to the Rikers' cabin well. He took time to analyze their situation. Their leaving presented more problems than what to tell the children. What would they tell the people of the cove? How could they explain their imminent departure to Neil, and Alice, and Christy, and David? And all the rest of the families they'd come to know over their ten years in Cutter Gap? They couldn't just disappear. Or could they? Jean-Luc smiled and shook his head. No. They couldn't become a mysterious legend. Their sudden leaving had to have an explanation - something that their friends in the cove would believe. But ten minutes later, when he climbed the front porch steps of the Riker cabin, he had no solutions to their problem. He hoped Will or Deanna could offer more options than he'd been able to generate.

The door opened even before he had a chance to knock. Will's tired face looked out at him, and then he stepped back.

"Jean-Luc," he greeted, "I wasn't expecting to see you so early. Everyone's still asleep. Come in," he invited when he realized that the older man hadn't stepped inside.

Jean-Luc shook his head. "I think...we'd better talk out here."

A trace of confusion lit Will's eyes, but he stepped out onto the porch, drawing his robe tighter around him. Jean-Luc moved over to one of the rocking chairs and sank into it. Will sat in the chair next to him.

"What is it, Jean-Luc?" he asked. And his captain told him.

~vVv~

A half hour later, Jean-Luc found himself preparing breakfast for the Riker children while Will and Deanna spoke on the front porch. The boys knew there was something wrong. Sam had sensed it the moment he'd awakened, even before he'd seen Uncle Jean-Luc sitting by their fireplace. He and Thomas had tumbled out of bed and hurried over to him.

"Is Mama all right?" Thomas asked immediately, looking around the cabin and seeing no trace of his parents.

"Your mother is fine. She and your father are talking on the front porch." He'd gotten up and crossed over to the kitchen area. The boys followed.

"The baby?" Thomas started toward his parents' sleeping area.

Jean-Luc's voice stopped him. "She's fine, too. Fast asleep. So is Matilda. Now, what do you boys like for breakfast?"

"What's wrong, Uncle Jean-Luc?" Sam asked stopping next to the dining table and staring at his uncle's back.

Jean-Luc turned around. "Nothing's wrong, Sam." The boy's dark eyes let him know that he didn't believe his words. "Well...it's nothing bad. There's…a possibility that… well, we all may be...moving."

Thomas's mouth fell open. "Moving?!"

"Umm...yes." Jean-Luc pursed his lips, and turned back to the kitchen cupboards. "Now, where does your mother keep the oatmeal?"

"On the second shelf, Jean-Luc." Deanna's voice came from the front door.

Thomas ran over to his parents as they came inside. "Uncle Jean-Luc says we're moving. Are we?"

Jean-Luc turned around and shrugged at his former ship's counselor. "I, umm...I told them you might be moving." He looked at Will and Deanna hopefully, aware that their decision might be different than the one he and Beverly had made.

Deanna smiled. "Your uncle's right, Thomas." She smoothed her hand over his dark brown hair. "We are moving."

Jean-Luc breathed a sigh of relief and shared a meaningful glance with Will.

Sam, who was still standing next to the table, stared over at his mother. "Are we...are we going home, Mom?"

Jean-Luc's eyes narrowed with confusion as Deanna crossed over to her eldest son. Sam was empathic; they'd all realized that when he was young, but could he possibly have known their well-guarded secret all these years?

Deanna sat down at the table next to him and took his hand in hers. "This is your home, Sam," she said softly.

Will joined her and held a hand out to his son as well.

Sam took hold of it and moved closer to them. "It's my home, and Thomas', and Matilda's, and Lucy's." He looked over at Jean-Luc. "And Andrew's, and Margaret's, and Walker's." The children's names tripped quickly off his tongue. But then he slowed down and turned his gaze back to his parents. His next words were quiet and deliberate. "But...it's not your home...is it?"

Deanna shook her head, tears gathering in her dark eyes. Eyes so much like Sam's. She felt Will's arm wrap around her shoulders.

"No, Sam. You're right. Your father and I, and Uncle Jean-Luc, and Aunt Beverly…we had…have another home. And it's time for us all to go back."

Footsteps sounded on the front porch, and Thomas, who was still standing next to the door, jumped in surprise. He turned and opened the door. The rest of the Picard family trooped inside.

Jean-Luc smiled across the room at them. "I think you're just in time."

~vVv~

Breakfast was forgotten as they settled both families around the fireplace, although Will managed to supply the adults with hot cups of strong black coffee. They'd need it, he reasoned as he sat down on the floor beside the rocking chair where Deanna was situated. He leaned his back against her legs. Matilda, who had awakened when Beverly and the children had come in, climbed onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around her and looked at the assembled children. Their eyes were large and round, waiting for the story that their parents would have to tell them. Will glanced up at Deanna. As counselor, she was the logical person to begin.

She smiled faintly and touched his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She looked over at Jean-Luc, sitting across from her, next to Beverly. "Jean-Luc, could you tell the children about...starships?"

And he nodded, understanding immediately. The story they'd kept hidden all these years was just that. A story. And the best way to explain to the children was to tell them that story in simple terms. He smiled. Deanna was always telling him that he had a talent for storytelling.

"Papa...what's a starship?" Andrew looked up at his father.

"Well, I'll tell you." He cast his eyes around the group of children. "You all know what a ship is, right?"

They all nodded, and Walker answered aloud. "Ships are on the ocean," he said with all the wisdom of a four-year-old, which, in his case, was wise indeed, for he had never even seen an ocean.

"That's right, Walker. Ships sail on the ocean. Now...where do you think a starship would sail?"

"On the stars?" Sam asked. "Or...through the stars," he amended his response.

"A ship can't sail through the stars," Margaret disagreed with him, but then turned and looked at her father. "Can it?"

"Well, not now," he answered truthfully. "But someday, hundreds of years from now, men and women will be able to build ships that can sail up into the sky - all the way past the stars, and the sun, and the moon. Millions and millions of miles into space. They'll be able to discover new planets. Some of them very much like Earth, and some very different."

Thomas stared up at him. "How do you know, Uncle Jean-Luc?"

Jean-Luc looked over at Deanna. It was her turn to continue the story.

She took a deep breath. "Thomas, your uncle knows about those ships, because he and Aunt Beverly, and your father and I used to live on one of them."

The boy's face clouded with confusion. "But…he said they wouldn't be made for hundreds of years."

"They won't be." She sighed. This wasn't going to be easy. "Sam," she looked at the boy, "when's your birthday?"

"September 1," he answered with a proud smile. He'd turned nine just two weeks earlier.

"And in what year were you born?"

He squinted at his mother. Surely she knew when he was born. After all, she'd been there. But he answered anyway. "1904."

"That's right. And Andrew, when is your birthday?"

"July 7, 1905." He included the year since Aunt Deanna had asked about Sam's birth year.

She nodded. "And Margaret and Thomas were born in 1906, Walker in 1909, and Matilda in 1911."

"Lucy was born in 1913," Thomas stated.

"Very good, Thomas," his father grinned at him.

"Mom, why are you asking about our birthdays?" Sam questioned.

"What year will it be in one hundred years?"

Sam thought for a second. "2013," he answered.

"And in two hundred years?"

He shrugged. "2113."

"Sam, I was born in 2336," Deanna said simply, then gave him time to add up the years.

He shook his head in disbelief. "But that's over four hundred years from now. That's not possible." He stared at his father. "Dad?"

Will took a deep breath. "I was born in 2335. We were all born four hundred years from now," he said, looking around at the adults. "And we lived and worked on a very large starship. Until one day, we took a trip on a smaller ship and there was an accident, and somehow...we traveled back in time and landed here, on this mountain, about ten years ago."

Margaret moved closer to her mother and looked up at her. "I...I don't understand, Mama." She was scared. Beverly could tell. They all were. Even Sam, who seemed to understand a little better than the others.

Beverly reached down and placed her hands on Margaret's shoulders. "It is confusing, and I know it's frightening, but it's true. When we came here, we didn't think we would ever be able to go back to our starship, to our time. We thought that the mountain would always be our new home. And that's why we never told you about our past."

"You mean the future," Andrew said.

Beverly smiled at her son's quick response. "I guess our past is the future."

"Can we see a starship?" Walker asked, crawling over to his father and placing a hand on his knee. He didn't understand much of what they were saying, and Jean-Luc was relieved. The transition would be much easier for Walker and Matilda.

"Yes, Walker, you can see a starship. Very soon." Jean-Luc glanced over at Deanna, and she nodded. He continued. "Last night, I was contacted by one of the people who live on our ship. They've been looking for us for several weeks now, and somehow they found us. You see, we've been here for over ten years, but for the people on the ship it hasn't been that long."

"You mean people can travel in time just like they travel through the stars," Sam said, figuring it all out in his head.

"Sometimes," his uncle replied. Jean-Luc studied the small faces that surrounded him. "And now that they've found us, they're ready to take us home."

"When are we going?" Sam turned toward his father.

Will looked up at Jean-Luc. "Day after tomorrow?"

And Jean-Luc nodded. They would go in two days - less than seventy-two hours to leave behind a place that had been their home for ten years.

"Will a ship come and get us?" Thomas asked.

Will sighed. "Not exactly."

~vVv~

They spent the rest of the afternoon answering a million questions and trying to explain concepts and ideas that the children could barely grasp. Transportation had not been an easy process to describe, and they did the best they could not to frighten the children further. They also had to decide what they would tell their mountain neighbors.

"Umm...a family emergency?" Will suggested, looking around at the adults.

"Yes," Beverly nodded, trying to suppress a laugh, "I think this constitutes a family emergency."

Will rolled his eyes. "That's not what I meant."

"I know," Beverly said apologetically. "It's actually a good idea. We could say that one of our relatives is seriously ill and we need to go back to...wherever...to be with them."

Jean-Luc nodded. "It's probably the best reason we can come up with. Where should this fictitious relative live?"

"Alaska?" Will volunteered, suppressing a laugh of his own.

"No, France," Jean-Luc grinned.

Deanna frowned. "Boys..." Her voice held an edge of warning. The men fell silent. They always knew they were in imminent trouble whenever Deanna or Beverly referred to them as boys.

Will sighed. "You're right. I think we're just..."

"The stress is getting to all of us," Beverly said. "Unfortunately, we can't afford to let it."

She looked over at the children gathered on the floor in front of the fireplace. They were playing checkers or drawing. It was late afternoon, and they'd been inside almost all day. The remains of their lunch still littered the dining table that the adults were sitting around.

"Missouri," Deanna said suddenly, and they all looked at her. "My mother in Missouri. She's...gravely ill. And she needs us."

"Wait till I tell Lwaxana that you tried to kill her off," Will smiled.

"In a few days, you just may have a chance to talk to her," Deanna replied.

"All right," Jean-Luc announced, suddenly sounding like a commanding officer. "It's decided. Deanna's mother in Missouri...St. Louis...needs us to be with her. And, Beverly will be able to practice medicine in a city the size of St. Louis. And Will and I can find jobs." He looked over at Will. "Now, I suggest you and I ride over to Neil's place and tell him about our sudden news."

Beverly reached out and placed a hand on Jean-Luc's arm, stemming his eagerness. "Wait a minute, how can this be sudden news. It's not like we've received a letter from Missouri informing us of Deanna's fictitious mother's fictitious illness."

Lines creases Jean-Luc's forehead. "You're right. Somehow we..." He stopped and thought for moment. And then a gleam lit his eyes. "The telephone at the mission house. Perhaps there's some way that Data can patch through a call..."

Will leaned forward. "From Missouri?"

"Why not?"

Will shrugged. "Why not?"

~vVv~

It was after supper when David Grantland rode into the Rikers' yard. Will rode back with him to the mission to return the call to St. Louis. When he returned an hour later, the cards had been dealt, and their bluff had been played.

"I told David and Christy we'd be leaving day after tomorrow, and then I went by Neil's. He said he'd come by to help us pack. They're puzzled, but I think they believe it enough not to question too much." He shook his head. "I'm sorry that Alice won't be back from Cataleechi. She's been a good friend."

"She has," Jean-Luc agreed. "We'll miss them all. But, we have a lot to do between now and Tuesday. We have to move house, or at least make it look like we're moving house."

"Is that moving house, or moving ship?" Will questioned.

"It's more like jumping ship," Jean-Luc mumbled. "We can donate the cabins and most of the furniture to the mission, but we'll have to load the wagon and take the horses and the mule. I suppose we can travel a couple of miles from here, and then have the ship transport us up."

Beverly's eyes widened. "Everything? Wagon? Horses? Mule?"

"We can't just leave them in the middle of the road. Perhaps we can take the animals to your house on Caldos. The children would like to spend some time there I'm sure."

Beverly groaned and leaned against Jean-Luc. "I wish we could just go now."

He hugged her to him. "We'll make it."

~vVv~


	10. Chapter 10

It was late when the Picards finally gathered their family together and went home. There was a reluctance to leave. _Strength in numbers, _Will thought as he watched Jean-Luc, Beverly, and the children trail off into the night.

Deanna took care of Lucy and Matilda while Will put the boys to bed. Sam and Thomas were exhausted, but still managed to ask a thousand questions as Will helped them wrestle into their pajamas.

"Do they have a school on the starship?" Thomas inquired as Will's large fingers struggled with the small buttons on the front of the boy's nightshirt.

"Yes, Thomas, there's a school. And you'll like it. The teachers are very nice."

"All the other kids will be smarter than us," Sam said hesitantly. He was already in his pajamas, sitting cross-legged on the end of the bed he shared with his brother.

Will looked over at him. Unlike the other children, Sam seemed to understand the complexity of what was happening to them.

"Why do you think they'll be smarter?" he asked, studying the expression on his older son's face.

Sam's forehead wrinkled as he replied. "Dad, they live in the future, in a starship, with inventions that we've never even thought of; they have to be smarter."

Will sat down on the bed next to Sam, pulling Thomas onto his lap. "At first, they may seem smarter because they may know about...more inventions." He used the word Sam had used. "But you'll learn fast, and you'll catch up with them in no time. All of you guys are smart. Look at Walker. He's only four and he can already read. In fact, all of you could read before you went to school."

Sam shrugged. He wasn't entirely convinced by his father's words. "We won't fit in," he whispered.

And Will sighed. He suspected that all of the children felt that way. Although they had friends on the mountain, none of them had ever really felt as though they belonged here. And now, returning to the _Enterprise, _the adults would be somewhere they were familiar with. But it would be new for the children. And frightening.

Will wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulder and kissed him softly on top of the head. "You fit in this family," he murmured. "Don't ever forget that."

And Sam leaned into his father and hugged him tightly. Following his older brother's example, Thomas hugged Will also.

"All right, all right," Will said, a few moments later. "It's after your bedtime, and we've got a busy day tomorrow." He unwound the boys' arms from around his chest and tucked them both into bed. "I'll see you in the morning," he whispered as he bent to kiss them on the cheeks.

"Goodnight, Dad," Sam replied, his features a little more relaxed than they had been earlier.

"Night, Dad," Thomas echoed.

"Goodnight," Will smiled.

He turned and crossed the room to his own bed. Pale lamplight shown through the curtain, and when he brushed past it, he saw that Matilda was already asleep in her crib. But the smaller cradle next to it was empty.

His next breath caught in his throat at the sight of Deanna propped against the pillows on their bed. She held Lucy in her arms, close to her chest, the baby suckling contentedly at her breast. And even after four children, Will found the sight of his wife nursing one of them the most beautiful picture in the world. He crawled onto the bed beside them and leaned his head on the pillow next to Deanna's. Gently, he traced a finger over the baby's cheek and lips, and then over Deanna's breast.

"She is beautiful," he breathed. "Just like her mother."

Deanna tilted her head, and Will's lips covered hers. Moments later, the baby gave a small cry. Deanna pulled back and smiled. "She doesn't like sharing me."

Will grinned slyly. "She can't stay awake all night." He slid his hand up to Deanna's cheek, his fingers brushing long strands of hair away from her face.

Deanna arched a delicate eyebrow at him. "Will, don't go getting any ideas. Remember, I just had a baby."

He nuzzled his lips against her neck. "I know," he murmured. "I just want to be near you."

Deanna kissed his forehead and ran her fingers through his hair. "I think my big baby is jealous," she whispered, pressing his head to her shoulder.

Will folded his body close to hers, his arm encircling her waist, one large hand cupping the baby's head. He sighed. Everything in his world was in place. For a little while, at least.

~vVv~

They were all tired, but Beverly insisted on baths for everyone.

"But Mama, it's late. And it's not Saturday night," Andrew complained as he watched his mother start the fire in the stove and put a pot of water on to heat.

"No, it's not Saturday night. We missed our usual bath night. And we'll probably be too tired to think about bathing tomorrow night."

"But I don't feel dirty," Andrew persisted.

"Me neither," Walker yawned.

Jean-Luc, leaning against the kitchen counter, smiled and reached out and brushed his fingers over Walker's cheek. "There's a smudge of dirt right there," he laughed.

Walker scrubbed his hand over his face, but the dirt wasn't going anywhere.

"I'll make a deal with you," Beverly offered. "We'll take turns tonight. Girls first, then the boys." She winked at Jean-Luc. "You can't put it off altogether, but at least you can postpone it. Margaret?" She called across the cabin. "You and I first tonight."

"Come on boys, we'll go find a story to read," Jean-Luc suggested leading them over to their bed.

They settled on the floor next to the bunk, Jean-Luc leaning against the edge of the bed. Andrew sat on one side, Walker on the other. They were content to listen to their father read while their mother and sister took a bath in the tin wash tub next to the oven.

Occasionally, Jean-Luc would glance over to the kitchen area, his breath almost catching in his throat at the sight of Beverly stepping into the low tub. Perhaps soon, they'd be able to take a bath together. He smiled. The prospect of privacy was enticing. With a mental shake, he turned his attention back to the story.

Ten minutes later, Beverly walked over to their bed. She was already dressed in her gown, and Margaret was wrapped in a thick towel. "Your turn."

Jean-Luc smiled up at her and awkwardly pushed himself off the floor. She reached down, took his hand, and gave him some assistance.

"You, too," she reminded him. "Just be careful not to get your arm wet."

"I'll try. But Walker splashes," he said with mock seriousness.

"Walker, don't splash your Papa's arm," Beverly said, ruffling her younger son's hair.

"I won't," he promised, following Andrew over to the kitchen.

Beverly settled on the edge of the bunk while Margaret got into her nightgown. And then, while she dried and combed her daughter's hair, she watched her men take a bath. She smiled and almost laughed as they all managed to get into the tin tub together. There wasn't much room, and there was a lot of pushing, shoving, and complaining. She couldn't help but notice the way the lamp light caught Jean-Luc's firm body, the sculptured muscles, his lean stomach. Of course, the overly large white bandage encasing his arm detracted from the overall image, but she found the view quite pleasing. Finally, they all seemed to settle in and soon the complaining turned to raucous laughter.

"Not my hair!" Andrew yelled as Jean-Luc lifted a handful of water and let it spill over his son's head.

"Yes, your hair," he insisted. "And yours." He emptied a handful of water over Walker's head as well.

"Yours, Papa!" Walker squealed, standing up and patting his hands to the sides of his father's head.

Jean-Luc laughed. "There's not much to wash there."

"Wash it for him anyway, Walker!" Beverly called. And Margaret giggled, as her mother braided her long hair.

"Don't get water on Papa's arm," Andrew warned his little brother.

"I'm not. Just his hair." He patted his father's cheeks. "You're scratchy, Papa."

Jean-Luc sighed. He had a three day's growth of beard, but hadn't had the time or enough hands to shave. He leaned back in the tub of warm water, his arm propped on the edge. Walker dribbled more water over his head and face.

"Andrew, hand me the soap please."

"Here, Papa." Andrew gave him the large piece of homemade soap.

Jean-Luc took advantage of Walker's standing in front of him and began to run the soap over his small body.

"That tickles," he squealed again, pushing at his father's hand.

"Yes, but it's getting you clean. Just like your cleaning my head."

Walker laughed. "Your hair, not your head."

"But I have more head than hair," Jean-Luc reasoned.

Andrew handed Walker a bath cloth. "Polish Papa's head, Walker."

Beverly heard and burst into laughter. "Don't polish it too much. It'll start shining and keep us awake all night."

"That's it," Jean-Luc roared good-naturedly. "Enough teasing your poor, old, broken-armed papa." He glanced over to the other side of the cabin. "Beverly, come get your sons out of here. They're sufficiently clean."

Beverly got up from the bunk bed and came over to the stove. She stared down at them. "Three men in a tub," she grinned.

"A butcher, a baker, and a candlestick maker," Walker said as she lifted him out.

Beverly wrapped a towel around each boy and sent them over to their bed to put on their pajamas. Jean-Luc started to get out as well, but Beverly pushed him back down.

"Hold on a minute. I'm going to give you a shave, Scratchy."

He smiled. "Oh, good. It's beginning to itch."

She went over to the kitchen and took a straight edged razor out of the cabinet and then returned. Jean-Luc had lathered his face and was leaning back, his head propped on the edge of the tub. Beverly knelt behind him.

"It's been a long time since I've done this."

Jean-Luc sighed. "That's not what you're supposed to say to a man when you have a razor in your hand."

She gave him an upside-down kiss on the forehead. "But I'm a surgeon. So you should be all right." She held the razor to his neck. "Relax, Jean."

Several minutes later, she was finished. "And not a scratch on you," she whispered, running her hands over his smooth cheeks.

She rinsed the razor and returned it to the cabinet. Then she came back and held out a towel and a hand, helping Jean-Luc out of the tub. He quickly ran the towel over his body, and then, with her help, knotted it around his waist. Beverly walked with him over to their bed and drew the curtain closed around them. She leaned into him and kissed his lips. He returned the kiss for a few seconds, and then pulled back.

"We have to put the children to bed," he reminded her.

"Then can I put you to bed?"

He nodded and grinned. "Most definitely."

~vVv~

It was another dream, another nightmare. But not the same as he'd had a few nights before. Beverly could tell without even asking. She allowed him to pull out of her arms even as she tried to comfort him. She knew that he needed to distance himself from her, find his way on his own for a few moments, and she lay back quietly on the bed as he groped in the darkness for his cane, and then his robe. Draping it awkwardly around his shoulders, he crossed to the door, and went out on to the porch.

Slowly, Beverly silently counted to thirty before getting up, putting on her own robe, and following him out into the night. He was leaning against the porch railing, his shoulder pressed to one of the wooden columns. She stood behind him and gently wrapped her arms around his body, laid her cheek on his shoulder. She could feel the tension-knotted muscles beneath his robe, could see his lined face clearly in the bright moonlight.

"We haven't told them everything," Jean-Luc whispered, turning slightly in her arms, looking back at her, his eyes clouded with traces of long ago fear and pain. Old memories that had never, and would never, be forgotten.

Beverly instinctively moved closer to him, the length of her body pressing against his. She knew that they were with him always. Pale faces, dark forms - images that were indelibly marked in his mind.

"We don't have to tell them now. When the time is right...when it's ...necessary," she reasoned. Her hand stroked along the side of his face, fingers gently caressing his cheek, subconsciously touching the places where the Borg implants had marred his skin.

Jean-Luc drew in a slow, shuddering breath, and brought his arms up to encircle her waist, his hands resting on her hips. "But...is it fair to them?" He released the breath he held and sighed. "Is it fair to put their lives in danger? Here, there are no...Borg." He said the word quietly, almost silently, as if speaking the very name would call them forth.

Beverly shook her head. She shared his concern, his doubts about the situation in which they found themselves. But she also knew that going back...going forward was the right thing to do. Despite all the possible dangers, the _Enterprise _was where they belonged.

"It's home, Jean-Luc," she murmured, leaning her forehead on his shoulder, her lips pressed to his ear.

His hand rubbed up over her back, and she felt his body relax against her. "You're right," he breathed. "As usual."

~vVv~


	11. Chapter 11

What should have been an ordinary Monday was far from it as the Rikers and the Picards set about "moving house." They stowed personal belongings and necessary household items into trunks and wooden boxes. These, they packed onto their shared wagon. Other objects, they packed away to donate to the mission.

The children helped for most of the morning, but at noontime, Beverly walked all of them to the school so that they could say goodbye to Miss Christy and their friends.

"Remember, Walker, you can't say anything about starships," Margaret reminded her younger brother.

The small boy stuck out his chin. "I won't," he declared.

"Margaret's right," Beverly agreed, looking around at the children. "You'll just need to tell them all goodbye and that you'll miss them."

"They sure are going to be surprised," Sam said, with a wistful shake of his head.

Beverly reached out and placed a hand on her nephew's shoulder. "I think Miss Christy may have already told them. After all, she was there when your father went to make the phone call."

"Mom says we really do have a grandmother." Sam looked up at Beverly. "Have you ever met her?"

Beverly smiled as the image of Lwaxana Troi floated through her mind. "Yes, Sam, I have met your grandmother. And I think you'll like her. She's...unique."

"That's what Daddy said," Thomas spoke up. Then his face twisted slightly. "What does 'unique' mean?"

"It means she's different," Sam answered before Beverly had a chance.

Beverly grinned. "She is different."

"Daddy says we'll have to see her to believe her," Thomas added.

And Beverly laughed, realizing that it would be good to see Lwaxana Troi.

~vVv~

"We'll miss you all so much," Christy said as she and Beverly walked along the side of the schoolyard. Behind them, the children were running and jumping and playing with their friends for the last time.

"And we'll miss all of you." Beverly sighed. "I know it's sudden, and I hate the fact that we won't even be able to tell Alice goodbye. It...It wasn't an easy decision for us to make." In fact, Beverly still wasn't sure, despite what she'd told Jean-Luc the night before.

The young schoolteacher could sense Beverly's apprehension, and wished that she could say something to make her feel better about the situation her family was faced with. If only Alice were here. She would know what to say. And yet, Christy knew what Miss Alice would say.

She took a deep breath, deciding to share Alice's words with Beverly. "If Miss Alice were here, she would say to trust in God. To put your worries and concerns into His hands, and trust Him to lead you." She released the breath she was holding. It sounded so much better when Alice said it.

But Beverly was comforted by the words. Impressed once again by the strong, quiet faith of the people they'd met here in the mountains. She supposed religion was an area in her life that she'd never quite come to terms with. And yet, even after traveling the galaxy, seeing so many different life-forms on so many different planets, being exposed to so many different beliefs, she had to admit that she did believe in a god, a greater being.

"That's very good advice, Christy. Something that I think I needed to be reminded of." She reached over and placed her hand on the teacher's arm. "And I don't think Miss Alice could have said it any better."

Christy smiled, and then leaned over and embraced Beverly. "Take care," she whispered. "We'll be praying for you."

~vVv~

"This is awful sudden, Jean-Luc."

He nodded. "Yes, but it can't be helped."

"I don't like it."

Jean-Luc stared over at the doctor. Neil MacNeill was a man who spoke what was on his mind. He'd always liked him for that. And he hated having to lie to him, but there was really no other choice.

"Believe me, we don't like it either. But Deanna's mother is very ill. And, well, we'd never mentioned it before, but moving to St. Louis has always been at the back of our minds."

Neil placed the box he was holding onto the wagon and tied it down with a length of rope. "Well, Beverly will have a better opportunity to practice medicine."

"And you won't have to worry about competition," Jean-Luc said with a laugh, lifting a heavy bag with one hand.

Neil reached out and took it from him. "You should be resting. In case you've forgotten, you have a broken arm and a bump on the head."

Jean-Luc drew the back of his hand over his sweat drenched forehead. He was tired, and hot. He nodded toward the front porch. "Why don't we both take a little rest? We're almost finished here, and then we can take the wagon back down to Will's."

Neil smiled in agreement and followed the older man over to the porch steps. They sank down on top of them, in the shade of the porch roof.

Jean-Luc stared at the wagon in the yard, laden down with all their worldly belongings. All this world's belongings, he reminded himself. And there weren't many. And the things they were taking with them weren't things they would miss.

"I hate the fact that I'm losing two good fishing buddies," Neil commented.

Jean-Luc chuckled. "You're only losing one. Remember, I'm a terrible fisherman."

"True, but ya' told good stories." Neil sighed. "It's...it's going to be lonely around here with all of you gone."

Jean-Luc looked over at the doctor with a raised eyebrow. "How can you say that it's going to be lonely with the number of families that depend on you?"

He shrugged. "You and Beverly, and Deanna and Will are...different."

"You mean we're from the flat land, outsiders."

Neil nodded. "Like David and Christy...and Alice. You've seen life outside of these mountains." He sighed again. "Sometimes, I miss it." There was a tone of guilt in his voice.

"There's no sin in missing it, Neil. Believe me; there have been many times when I've missed life outside these mountains." Jean-Luc rubbed his hand over his chin, fingers stroking his lips. His eyes scanned the surrounding woods. "But now that we're leaving, I realize just how much I'm going to miss this place."

Neil smiled over at him. "And this place is going to miss you."

~vVv~

"Mama?" Andrew pulled at the sleeve of her shirt. "Do we have a grandmother?"

Beverly sighed as she stepped up the path toward the cabin. She knew that Will and Deanna had led their children to believe that they didn't have grandparents, and now they had been told that Lwaxana and Kyle were both still living in the future. She wished that she could tell her own children that they had grandparents as well. But, perhaps it was time to tell them about the relatives they did have.

"No, Andrew, both my parents and your father's parents are no longer living."

"They're in Heaven, right?" Margaret asked, looking up into her mother's eyes.

"Yes," Beverly answered. "But, you do have an uncle, and an aunt, and a cousin. They're your father's family: Uncle Robert, Aunt Marie, and Rene."

Andrew squinted his eyes at her. "Renee's a girl's name."

"Not in France."

His eyes widened. "They live in France?" He'd always known that his father's family had come from France, but it was hard to believe that he had an aunt and uncle and cousin who actually lived there. But, then again, everything that was happening to them was hard to believe.

"Yes, they do," his mother confirmed. Then she took a deep breath. Perhaps she should wait to tell them about Wesley, but something about the stillness of the woods, the warm sun shining through the trees, the closeness of the children gathered around her, made her feel that...somehow, the time was right. "There's someone else we've never told you about. Someone whom we thought you would never be able to meet." She paused.

"Who?" Margaret prompted.

"His name is Wesley, and he's...he's your older brother. And Sam and Thomas' cousin," she included, patting Sam's shoulder.

Andrew stopped walking, and the rest of the group stopped as well. "Brother?"

He gaped up at his mother, and Beverly felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She shouldn't have told them. She should have waited. But twenty-twenty hindsight was just that.

"Yes, Andrew, you have an older brother. His name is Wesley. He's a lot older than you are...he's almost twenty-one."

Immediately, Beverly could see Andrew mentally adding up the years. For an eight-year-old, he was amazingly good at arithmetic.

"But you and Papa haven't been married that long," he announced a few moments later.

"Mama?" Margaret stepped closer to her, and Beverly wrapped an arm around the girl's shoulder.

"No," she sighed, "Papa and I haven't been married that long." There was a large boulder on the side of the path, and she went over and sat down, the children gathering around her, Andrew and Margaret close at her sides, Sam and Thomas climbing up behind her. She took each of her children's hand in hers. "A long time ago, I was married to someone else. His name was Jack Crusher, and he and your father worked together on a starship."

"Was Papa the captain?" Andrew piped up.

Beverly smiled. "Yes, he was captain of that ship, too, and Jack was his first officer."

"Like Uncle Will?"

They'd explained the basic command structure to the children, and they had been intrigued by it. She nodded and smiled. "Like Uncle Will. And just like Uncle Will, they were very good friends. We all were."

"But you married Jack and not Papa?"

Beverly squeezed her daughter's hand. "I met Jack before I met your Papa, and I fell in love with him. Had I met your father first… Well, I may have fallen in love with him instead. But I met Jack. And we got married and had a son." She took a deep breath. "When Wesley was only five-years-old, Jack died in an accident." This time she felt Margaret squeeze her hand, and she looked down into her daughter's eyes – eyes so like Jean-Luc's, and she smiled. "There's still a part of my heart that will always love Jack, but I love your father, too. Very much."

"Is Wesley on the Enterprise?" Andrew asked.

Beverly hesitated. "He was." She wasn't sure how to explain where he was now. Two planes of existence were enough for the children to try and comprehend – multiple planes might be too much. "He lives far away right now. But, hopefully, he'll be able to come visit us soon. I know that he will be so excited to know that he has a sister, and brothers, and cousins." She thought of all those years that Wesley spent as an only child, and she knew that he would love his new siblings. As much as they would love him. "When we're on the starship, I can show you pictures of him."

Margaret thought for a moment. "Does he have red hair like you and Walker?"

And Beverly laughed softly. "No. His hair is brown. A little bit lighter than yours. And his eyes are brown. And he's tall and thin and very smart."

"Mama?"

"Yes, Andrew?"

"Since Wesley's father died, is Papa his father now?"

She leaned over and kissed her son on the forehead. "Papa has been a father to him for years."

~vVv~

By late Monday evening, they were packed and ready. They'd said their final goodbyes to their friends in the cove, and now they were alone, just the two families. They sat on the porch of the Rikers' cabin, watching the shadows growing longer in the gathering dusk.

The Picards had already left their cabin, and would be spending the night at Will and Deanna's so that they could get an early start the next morning. Jean-Luc smiled as he remembered Beverly sweeping the floor one last time.

_"Nana always said to leave a clean house," she insisted, the straw broom brushing over the plank floorboards._

_Jean-Luc grinned at her._

_"Don't laugh," she warned, her eyes bright with tears._

_"I'm not. You know I think your grandmother was a very wise woman. "_

_He continued to watch as she moved around the cabin, sweeping one corner and then the next. And when it was completely swept, she started all over again._

_Jean-Luc went to her then, and gently took hold of her arm, stopped the sweeping motion. "Beverly," he whispered._

_And she looked up at him, tears on her cheeks. "I'm…" She sniffed and drew in a ragged breath._

_Jean-Luc's large fingers wiped the tears from her face. "I know. I'm..." He swallowed around a lump in his throat, his own eyes threatening to fill with tears. "I'm going to miss it, too. After all, Will and I built these places with our own hands. We all did. The walls themselves are a part of us. Of who we were here."_

_He wrapped his good arm around her and pulled her close. Through the half open door, he could hear the sounds of the children in the yard. "But, it is just a cabin, Beverly. We're taking with us all that made it a home."_

_She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "You're right," she smiled. "As always."_

"Stop staring at your wife, Jean-Luc." Beverly's voice teased him back into the present.

He blinked, and then smiled. "I can't help it when she's so beautiful."

Beverly's cheeks flushed, even after all these years, he noted with satisfaction. But behind him, he heard Andrew groan, and Sam laugh.

"Don't worry, Andrew, my parents are like that sometimes, too."

Jean-Luc sighed. "Isn't it getting late?" he said, his voice louder.

"And then they always try to send you to bed," Sam continued, ignoring his uncle's veiled threat of an early bedtime.

"It's not a bad idea," Deanna said from her place in the rocking chair.

Sam's eyes grew round. "But Mom, I'm not tired."

"Me either," Thomas said, looking up from where he lay sprawled at the top of the porch steps.

Will leaned back in his chair, his feet propped on the railing. He scratched his fingers over his beard. "It is getting late. And we do have to get up early in the morning."

"But Dad, it's not like we're really going all the way to Missouri," Sam persisted.

"I think I agree with Deanna. It's not a bad idea," Beverly remarked, looking down at Margaret who sat quietly beside her. The girl's head rested against her mother's shoulder, and her eyes were halfway closed.

"Mama..." Andrew started to protest.

"You're mother's right," Jean-Luc said, realizing that Walker had already fallen asleep on his chest.

Will stretched his arms above his head and straightened his chair back up. "All right, let's get the bedtime show on the road." He stood, leaned over, and gently picked up Walker. "I'll take this one for you," he offered. "I've already put Lucy and Matilda down. I'm getting good at it tonight."

Walker groaned softly, but quickly cuddled into the warmth of his uncle's broad shoulder.

Jean-Luc pushed himself to his feet as well. "I'll help. Come on Andrew, Margaret." He held his hand out, and Andrew stood up, allowed his father to rest his palm on his shoulder for support.

"You, too, Sam... Thomas..." Will called over his shoulder as he pushed into the cabin.

The boys got up and followed.

Deanna and Beverly didn't move from their chairs as they watched their husbands and children troop into the house. They were simply too tired.

"We'll be in to kiss you goodnight," Beverly promised them.

"Thomas, don't forget to brush your teeth," Deanna reminded.

The boy rolled his eyes as he disappeared through the door. "Yes, ma'am."

Deanna sighed and relaxed further into the rocking chair. "We really should be helping them."

Beverly shook her head. "Will and Jean-Luc are perfectly capable of putting their children to bed." She grinned over at Deanna. "We've taught them well."

Deanna nodded. "Yes, we have. It wasn't easy, but they've turned out better than I ever expected."

Beverly smiled. "They have, haven't they? Of course, I never had any doubts about Will. He's always been good with children."

Deanna glanced over at her friend. "And you had doubts about Jean-Luc?"

Beverly's eyes widened. "Deanna, you know I did. He was the man who didn't want children on his ship. I can still remember the look on his face the first time Wesley went onto his bridge."

Deanna laughed softly. "Things have come full circle then, haven't they?"

"How so?"

"Well, the very man who initially didn't want families on the _Enterprise _is about to bring on his own."

~vVv~

They'd laid blankets on the floor near the fireplace for Jean-Luc and Beverly, and Margaret and Walker. Somehow, Andrew had found room in Sam and Thomas' bed. When Deanna and Beverly went in to kiss the children goodnight, they weren't surprised to find them almost asleep. It had been a long day for all of them.

Beverly knelt beside Margaret and Walker, and placed a gentle kiss on their foreheads. "Sweet dreams," she murmured, before getting up and going to the bed.

Andrew was in between Sam and Thomas, and all three boys were peering out over the covers.

"What will it be like?" Thomas asked his mother as both Deanna and Beverly settled on the edge of the bed.

"The transporter?" Somehow, Deanna knew what he was thinking about.

"Um-um," he murmured.

"At first, you'll feel a little tingly, a little warm, but then you'll be on the ship before you know it." She rubbed her hand over his forehead, brushed back the thick brown hair. "I promise you, it won't hurt."

"We know, Mom," Sam sighed. But Deanna knew that he was relieved by her explanation.

"Now close your eyes," Beverly said. "All of you."

She kissed each one, and then Deanna kissed them. And then three pairs of eyes, brown, green, and blue, fell closed.

Quietly, the two women crossed the cabin and went back out onto the porch. Will and Jean-Luc were settled in their chairs, having accomplished their last task of the day.

"Asleep?" Jean-Luc asked.

"Who? Me or the children?" Beverly answered with a tired laugh, sitting down in the chair next to his.

He reached over with his good hand and took hold of one of hers. "We're almost there," he reassured.

Deanna sank back down into her rocking chair, and Will reached out for her hand as well. "I wonder what it will be like. To be back on the _Enterprise," _he mused.

"It will be...wonderful," Deanna answered for them all.

~vVv~


	12. Chapter 12

They left early the next morning, before the first light of dawn had touched the sky.

"It's more like the middle of the night," Will complained quietly as he lifted Thomas onto the back of the wagon.

"We have to go in the dark, Daddy," Thomas reminded him. "If it was daytime, someone might see us disappear."

Will sighed. He was still amazed at how well the children had accepted their story. Starships, transporters, other worlds. They seemed to be taking it all in stride, although Deanna had already warned the adults that the next few months were going to be a difficult transition for the children. For all of them, actually. It had been a long time between starships.

"You're right, Thomas," Will agreed, placing a sleeping Matilda next to her older brother. "We have to be careful. But I don't think anyone will be out in the woods this early in the morning."

"Just us," Andrew yawned, and then burrowed further under the blanket that Will had tucked around the children.

"Are we ready?" Jean-Luc asked, glancing up at the wagon seat where Beverly and Deanna were already perched, baby Lucy in her mother's arms.

Beverly twisted in her seat and looked down at the children: Andrew, Margaret, Walker, Sam, Matilda, and Thomas. "I count six," she confirmed with a soft laugh.

"There's seven," Thomas reminded her.

"Just barely," Deanna added.

And Thomas giggled.

Will looked over at Jean-Luc. "I think it's time."

The older man nodded in agreement. Simultaneously, they pulled themselves onto either side of the long wagon seat, Will next to Deanna, Jean-Luc beside Beverly. Beverly heard an unmistakable groan as Jean-Luc settled next to her.

She touched his knee. "Jean?"

He shook his head, dismissing her concern. "I'm fine," he whispered.

But Beverly knew better. His arm was hurting him badly, and had been since the accident. She could see the pain in the way he held his body, the set of his jaw, the lines around his eyes. Many times in the past few days, she'd wanted to make him slow down and get some rest. But she knew that they didn't have time for that, and so she hadn't insisted. But as soon as they were on board the ship, as soon as it was possible, she would fix his arm. And his leg. And the damage that had been done so long ago.

She squeezed his knee. "We'll be there soon, won't we?"

He smiled, realizing her concern for him and grateful for her quiet understanding. "Not long now," he promised, his hand reaching into his pocket and touching the communicator. And then he winked at her. "We're almost home."

Will shook the reins and the horses started off slowly, the mule trailing behind the wagon. They'd decided to travel for at least a few miles before they contacted the ship, and the next half hour passed quietly. The children were either sleeping or almost asleep, and surprisingly, they didn't ask, 'Are we there yet?' every few minutes.

But sooner than any of them realized, they were there before they knew it. The coordinates that Data had chosen were in a clearing almost three miles from the Rikers' cabin. The path seemed to disappear into the woods, and the trees created a protective circle around the wagon.

Suddenly, the children were wide awake, even Walker and Matilda. They peered into the grey morning light, as if expecting to see the man called Data. Their parents had already explained the android to them. And they'd told them about Geordi and his visor. And even Worf. They were as prepared as they possibly could be. And yet, nowhere near as prepared as they needed to be. If they'd had more time, perhaps it would have been better. But they hadn't had more time. And now, there was no time left at all.

Jean-Luc pulled the communicator from his pocket and tapped it.

Instantly, Data's crisp, clear voice filled the air. "Captain, our sensors have been monitoring you. You have arrived at the precise point. The transporter chief recommends that you separate yourselves from the wagon. He will then lock onto your coordinates and simultaneously beam the wagon and animals to a cargo bay, and you, Commander Riker, Counselor Troi, Doctor Crusher, and the children to Transporter Room Three."

"Very well, Mister Data. Allow us a few minutes to get down from the wagon."

"Yes, sir."

The children listened wide-eyed to the exchange between Jean-Luc and the voice that seemed to come from nowhere. They'd heard it once before in the cabin, but now it seemed eerie in the early morning mist.

Beverly turned back to them. "It's time," she said with a reassuring smile.

The adults climbed down from the wagon seat, and then lifted the younger children out. The older ones jumped over the edges of the wagon, and then pushed close to their parents.

"Mama?" Margaret's voice was thin and quiet in the stillness. She pushed her hand into Beverly's.

"It's all right," her mother whispered.

They grouped themselves several feet away from the wagon. Jean-Luc managed to pick Walker up in his good arm, and Andrew stood next to them, his fingers grasping Jean-Luc's elbow. Beverly kept hold of Margaret's hand, and laid her other hand on Andrew's shoulder. Beside them, the Riker family was arranging themselves as well. Deanna cradled Lucy in one arm and her other arm encircled Thomas. Will held Matilda and also hugged Sam close to him. And then, both families drew closer. _Strength in numbers, _Will thought again.

Jean-Luc signaled the ship. "Mister Data, we're ready when you are."

"We have your coordinates. We will transport on your mark."

Jean-Luc drew in a breath and released it. He glanced over at Will, and the younger man nodded. And then, Captain Jean-Luc Picard gave a command. The first one he'd given in almost ten years. "Energize," he said, his voice calm and authoritative.

And instantly, the air around them began to shimmer. The long ago familiar sensation flooded through the adults. _It was like riding a bike, _Jean-Luc thought as the individual atoms of his body dematerialized. Once you experienced molecular transport, you never really forgot the feeling.

The grey walls of Transporter Room Three formed around them, and standing next to the control panel were faces that Jean-Luc thought he'd never see again: Data, Geordi LaForge, Chief McDowell, Doctor Selar, and Alyssa Ogawa.

Geordi released a long breath. "That was some conference," he said, smiling broadly.

"It certainly was," Jean-Luc agreed, looking down and taking note of the children.

They stood perfectly still, simply staring at the room and people around them.

And then there was a flurry of motion as greetings were exchanged, and introductions were made, and the children were helped down from the transporter pad. Jean-Luc and Will seemed to slip almost effortlessly into their roles as captain and first officer, listening as Data and Geordi apprised them of the ship's standing. Beverly and Deanna explained to the children what a hypospray was, as Selar and Alyssa were there not only to meet them, but inoculate all of them. Ten years on early twentieth century Earth had probably introduced new germs and bacteria into their systems. The children were surprised when the hypo didn't really hurt.

"It tickles," Walker giggled.

"No, it itches," Thomas differed.

"It stings," Will grimaced as Alyssa pressed the hypospray to his neck. He winked down at the boys.

"Don't listen to him," Deanna said, shaking her head. "He's just a big baby."

The children laughed.

Selar administered the hypo to Jean-Luc, and then changed the setting and pressed it to his neck again. "A pain suppressant, Captain," she explained quietly.

Jean-Luc nodded gratefully, and then turned toward his extended family. "Well, shall we get settled?"

~vVv~

Data had cleared all passageways in route to their quarters. The Picards chose to go to Jean-Luc's cabin, and the Rikers to Deanna's.

"If I remember correctly, I think my place is a bit of a mess," Will laughed as he wrapped an arm around Deanna.

"And your quarters are bigger than mine," Beverly said to Jean-Luc.

"Still not big enough for this crowd," he murmured with a shake of his head.

Beverly noticed that he was trying not to lean too heavily on his cane, but it seemed to be a losing battle. Even with the hypo that Selar had administered, he was still uncomfortable and tired. She couldn't wait to take him down to Sickbay and assess his condition. And then, not only would she take care of that arm, but she would heal the brain damage as well. But first, they all needed to rest.

They arrived at Deanna's cabin, and reluctantly, the two families parted.

"We'll see everyone in the morning," Beverly promised her children after they'd said their goodbyes.

"But it's still morning, isn't it?" Andrew wondered, peering up at his mother in confusion.

"We left Earth when it was morning, but here on the ship it's nighttime."

"How can you tell?" Margaret asked.

"When we were in the transporter room, Mister Data informed your mother and me of the time," Jean-Luc explained. "It's almost nine o'clock at night. Or, as we say here on the ship, twenty-one hundred hours."

Andrew grinned. "I remember when you told me about that kind of time. When you use all twenty-four hours in the day."

"That's right. And although we haven't used up all those hours, I think we could all use some sleep," Beverly suggested as they stopped in front of the cabin door.

Jean-Luc touched the entry panel and the door slid open.

"This isn't a cabin," Walker said loudly, looking up and down the passageway.

Sensing his uncertainty, Beverly reached down and picked up her youngest son in her arms. "No, it's not a cabin like our cabin in the mountains. But it is a fine place to live," she assured him.

They went inside, and Margaret and Andrew were immediately drawn to the viewports. They approached the large windows slowly.

"Papa? Is that space out there?" Andrew breathed.

Jean-Luc stepped close to his son and daughter. "Yes, it is, Andrew."

"We're next to the stars," Margaret whispered in awe.

Beverly and Walker joined them, and they stood together as a family for several minutes, bathed in the silver light of the stars outside the viewport.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" Jean-Luc said, a smile lighting his face.

"Um-um," the children agreed. And then Walker yawned, and Beverly took that as her cue.

"All right, let's check out the sleeping arrangements." She went to the open doorway that led into the next room, and then looked back over her shoulder. "We're in luck. Someone thought to move a couple of extra beds in here. We may be a little crowded, but at least we'll all have a place to sleep."

"I don't think I can sleep, Mama," Margaret said, her eyes still fastened to the outside view.

"Well, we'll all lie down and try anyway." She walked back over to them and handed Walker to Jean-Luc. "Hold him for a little while," she whispered, knowing that he would more than likely fall asleep in his father's arms.

Jean-Luc sat down on the sofa, carefully balancing the small boy against his shoulder. Beverly led Margaret and Andrew into the next room, and for the next fifteen minutes, she was busy preparing them for bed.

Jean-Luc did not realize that he'd closed his eyes and almost drifted off to sleep with Walker until he felt someone trying to lift the child from his chest.

"Huh?" he grunted, coming instantly to awareness.

"Shh," Beverly soothed. "He's asleep. I've got him." She carefully picked him up and disappeared into the bedroom with him.

A few minutes later, she returned and sank down onto the sofa beside Jean-Luc. "They're all asleep."

Jean-Luc nodded, and then stretched, his head leaning back against the cushions. And suddenly, the reality of their situation hit him, and he felt himself begin to tremble.

Beverly, sensing his discomfort, tried to smooth her hand over his forehead.

"Don't..." He murmured, his voice husky, tears gathering in his eyes. Even after all their years together, he was sometimes embarrassed to have her see him cry.

"It's all right, Jean," she whispered, leaning close to him.

He heard the slight tremor in her voice, and looking over, he saw tears in her eyes as well.

"Oh, Beverly..." he gasped, "I feel...I feel like...we're refugees." A slight smile traced across his face, even as a tear rolled down his cheek.

Gently, Beverly wiped the wetness away with a soft brush of her fingertips. "We are," she breathed.

~vVv~

The children were tucked into the beds in the corner of Jean-Luc's bedroom. Despite Margaret's doubts, all three of them were sound asleep. Beverly sat on the foot of the larger bed, watching them. She had taken a shower, and now Jean-Luc was taking one.

A few minutes passed, and the bathroom door slid open. Jean-Luc came padding out with a towel wrapped around his waist. He stopped in the dressing alcove and took a pair of dark blue silk pajamas from a drawer.

He turned and smiled over at Beverly. "It's been a long time since I've worn these," he said softly, and then loosened the towel and let it fall to the floor. He pulled on the pajamas, settling the shorts around his hips, and then attempting to tie the shirt closed across his chest.

Seeing the difficulty he was having with his injured arm, Beverly got up off the bed and went over to him. She was wearing a long satin nightgown that she'd gotten from the replicator. Tomorrow she would go to her quarters and bring some things back to her new home, but for now, all she wanted to do was to crawl into bed next to Jean-Luc and rest.

She stopped in front of him and took the silk ties in her hands. "Here, let me help." She tied the shirt closed, but not before her hands slid up over his chest, fingers caressing the solid muscles.

"Umm," he sighed, leaning forward and kissing her.

Beverly responded and her arms encircled him. They stood close together for long moments, and then Beverly took his hand and led him back across the room. He limped slowly along behind her, and when they reached the bed, he slid under the covers beside her, carefully wrapping his good arm around her. Snuggling into her side, he rested his head next to hers on the pillow, his face buried in her hair.

"Welcome home," he breathed, kissing the side of her neck.

"I'm happy to be here," she whispered, pulling him closer to her and returning his kisses.

~vVv~


	13. Chapter 13

Will sat on the floor in the middle of Deanna's bedroom. _Our bedroom, _he realized looking around at the extra beds and cribs that lined the walls. _Everyone's bedroom. _He sighed. They'd traveled thousands of miles, through a window in time, over four hundred years, and they were still six people living in one room. He watched as Matilda rolled over in her crib, yawned, and sleepily stuck her thumb in her mouth. Her blue eyes blinked open and then closed again. Will smiled. All of them in one room, and he wasn't sure if he wanted it any other way.

He looked up as Deanna emerged from the bathroom. She was wearing a light blue satin gown that he remembered from long ago, the thin straps hidden by the hair that curled down around her shoulders. His smile broadened, and he pushed himself to his feet and went over to her. His hands skimmed along her shoulders and down her arms, and Deanna trembled at his touch. She pressed her palms against his chest, her fingers absently playing with the metal fasteners on his faded, denim overalls.

"I think I'm overdressed," he whispered.

Deanna turned slightly and picked up some clothing from the top of the dresser beside them. "I got these from the replicator."

Will took the silk pajamas from her. "Not quite the same as a pair of long johns, are they?"

Deanna smiled and kissed the bearded point of his chin. "They leave less to the imagination," she murmured.

He grinned. "True, but... Well..." He set the pajamas back down on the dresser.

Sensing his indecision, Deanna ran her hand along his cheek. "Will, you don't have to wear them."

He shook his head. "It's not that I don't want to, it's just..." His voice trailed off, unsure of his reasoning.

"They're not familiar," Deanna said, understanding his hesitation.

Will wrapped his arms around her. "No, they're not familiar." He pulled her closer. "But you are." He kissed the top of her head, burying his face in her hair. He inhaled deeply. Although she'd just taken a bath, she still smelled like the mountains: fresh air and warm sunshine, the fragrance of sweet flowers. And suddenly, he was afraid, of all they'd left behind them, and all that lay ahead.

Deanna's hands smoothed over his back; she could feel the fast beating of his heart. "It's all right, Will. We're going to be fine." She said the words with calm assurance, as if she could see the future as easily as they had seen the past. She pressed her lips to his ear. "I love you, Imzadi."

He felt her words as clearly as he heard them, and he thought them back to her. _I __love you...Imzadi._

~vVv~

The frightened cry broke the stillness of the Picards' cabin. Beverly sat up quickly and peered into the grey light of the bedroom. Andrew was sitting up in the bed he shared with his brother, his eyes wide open, tears trailing down his cheeks. Walker and Margaret were also awake, as was Jean-Luc.

"It's all right," Beverly soothed as she got out of bed and crossed to the other side of the room. Jean-Luc was right behind her.

They settled on the edge of the bed, and the children pressed into their arms. They were all crying now, gasping for breath, eyes blinking as they looked around at the shadowed lines of the unfamiliar room.

"Computer, increase lighting fifty percent," Jean-Luc instructed. The room brightened immediately.

But seeing where they were didn't allay the children's fears. If anything, it frightened them more. This wasn't home, this wasn't the place where they'd grown up; the furniture surrounding them wasn't the simple, handcrafted pine that filled their cabin on the side of the mountain.

"It's all right," Beverly continued, rocking Andrew and Margaret in her arms, their faces pressed into her shoulders.

Walker clung to Jean-Luc's chest, his arms and legs wrapped around his father's body. "I want...to go home," he gulped between sobs.

"I know," Jean-Luc murmured, holding him with his good arm, his fingers rubbing the back of Walker's head; the red curls were damp with perspiration. Tenderly, Jean-Luc kissed the top of his son's head.

"I wanna go home, too," Andrew mumbled, pulling his head from Beverly's shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he scrubbed the back of his hand over his eyes.

"This is your new home, Andrew," Beverly said gently. "You know we can't go back. We talked about that, remember?"

"Um-um," he replied, as fresh tears dripped down his cheeks.

"We can't...ever go back?" Margaret whispered.

Beverly glanced over at Jean-Luc. He sat, holding Walker close to his chest, his face half buried in the boy's hair. He sighed. "We can't go...go back to that t-time again," he said slowly, stuttering slightly.

They'd already explained the details to the children, but he knew there was a difference between hearing something, and actually living it. They would never go back to the mountain again. At least, not to the year 1913. The realization of that fact, and the pain his family was experiencing, brought tears to Jean-Luc's eyes as well.

He swallowed, the lump in his throat making it difficult to talk. "This is our...home now. And we'll all g-get used to it. But it will take some time." He gave a slight smile. "We're going to have...to be brave," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. He felt a tear run down the bridge of his nose and onto his cheek.

Somehow, even with her arms around Margaret and Andrew, Beverly managed to reach over and dry his face with her fingertips. Her hand lingered on his cheek. "But we're not alone." Her eyes were fastened to Jean-Luc's gaze, and she was assuring him as much as she was the children. "We have a lot of friends here. And we're going to be all right."

~vVv~

Morning came. At least, the ship's simulated morning. There was no dove grey sky to watch turn pink, and then orange with sunrise. There were no sounds of birds, or the rushing water of the stream; just the stars outside the viewports and the hum of the ship's engines.

The children were tired and disoriented, and although they were awake, they were still in bed when the door chime sounded at 0800 hours.

Jean-Luc looked up from the computer on his desk. After a ten year shore leave, he was grateful that he only had two weeks of daily reports to read. But still, he was finding it difficult to get back into the habit.

The chime sounded again, and Jean-Luc answered its hail. "Come," he called, his customary invitation a reflex even after all these years.

The door to his right slid open, and Will came inside. He was dressed in a pair of tan trousers and an old, blue work shirt. Jean-Luc recognized it from the planet.

Will shrugged. "Deanna had someone deliver some of the boxes from the cargo bay. She thinks the children will adjust better if they see me in familiar clothing for a few more days."

"Beverly suggested that as well, but she made a concession on the pajamas." Jean-Luc glanced down at his apparel. "You don't know how much I missed this dressing gown."

Will smiled at his commanding officer. He'd always been aware of Jean-Luc's affinity for the long grey robe. There had been many times when he'd seen to it that the robe had been delivered to Sickbay whenever the captain had been ill or injured.

Jean-Luc stood up and waved Will in the direction of the sitting area. "Have a seat. Can I get you anything? Breakfast?"

Will stepped over and sank down into one of the padded chairs. "No, thanks. Deanna's already fed us oatmeal this morning."

Jean-Luc sighed and settled onto the sofa. "So has Beverly. The children ate in bed. They're still there. It's almost as if they're afraid to get up."

Will nodded. "I know what you mean. The boys are looking around our quarters as if..." He laughed slightly. "As if they were in another world."

Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow at the younger man's choice of words, but refrained from comment. Instead, he turned the conversation towards ship's business. "I've been reviewing Data's logs while we were away." He shook his head. "This window in time seems to be entirely random. Its location and duration is continually shifting throughout the galaxy."

"I know," Will agreed. "I've read a few of the reports. Geordi has some interesting theories, but concrete, scientific facts are few and far between. We're just lucky they were able to find us and pull us out before this last window closed."

Jean-Luc leaned back into the sofa and tried to move his arm into a more comfortable position across his chest and stomach. The wince of pain that traced across his face at that moment was poorly timed. Beverly came in from the bedroom and, with something akin to doctor's radar, immediately picked up on his discomfort. But instead of addressing words of concern toward him, she turned to the first officer.

"Oh, good, I'm glad you're here, Will. You're very prompt."

Will grinned up at her. "I try never to be late for my duty shift - especially when the Chief Medical Officer is in command."

Jean-Luc shifted his gaze from Beverly to Will, and then back again. "Would someone care to let me know what's going on here?" Beverly didn't respond immediately, and Jean-Luc looked back at the man seated across from him. "Will?"

"Well, Deanna's with our brood, so I came to sit with yours."

"What?" Jean-Luc questioned. He had assumed that Will's early morning visit concerned ship's business. After all, they were a captain and first officer again.

"For just a little while, Jean-Luc," Beverly said, sitting down next to him on the sofa. "You and I have an appointment in Sickbay."

He shook his head, realizing her intentions. "Beverly, no…"

"It won't take long." She touched his arm. "I'm going to take care of this, and..." She gently ran her hand along the side of his head. "And this."

His eyes stared into hers, hazel green into clear blue. He drew in a breath, held it, then released it slowly. "The children..."

"Walker's asleep again, and Andrew and Margaret are playing checkers." She squeezed his arm. "They'll be fine with Will."

"Beverly's right," Will spoke up. "They'll be fine." He reached out and laid a hand on Jean-Luc's other arm. "Don't you think it's time you were, too?"

Jean-Luc looked back at him, his words registering. He smiled faintly at Will. "You know what this means?"

Will shook his head.

"It means I won't need that cane you made for me anymore."

~vVv~

He insisted on changing his clothes before they left. He wasn't about to go traipsing around the ship in his dressing gown - not that he hadn't done it before. But even though he was going to Sickbay, he wanted to be dressed. Like Will, he opted for a pair of plain trousers and a shirt similar to something he would have worn on the mountain.

When Jean-Luc and Beverly left ten minutes later, Will was sprawled across the children's bed, playing checkers with them. "We'll be back soon," Beverly promised.

Andrew and Margaret looked up at their parents and nodded. They knew where they were going, and they understood that their mother's Sickbay could heal their father's broken arm in a matter of minutes.

"When you get back, we'll all go to our cabin for lunch. How does that sound?" Will invited.

Beverly laughed as she headed out the door with Jean-Luc. "It sounds like you'd better check with Deanna first."

The door slid closed on Will's response, and Beverly glanced over at her husband. "Doesn't Will know the rules? Always check with the wife where dinner guests are involved."

Jean-Luc chuckled as they walked down the corridor towards the turbolift, but Beverly was aware of his anxiety. He leaned on the cane in his hand, each step slow and heavy.

They waited in silence for the lift, and when it arrived, they stepped inside. Jean-Luc slumped against the back wall, his head bent, eyes on the floor.

Beverly stood in front of him and pressed her hands against his chest as the lift began to move. "I can't make any guarantees," she said, addressing the fears neither of them had mentioned.

Jean-Luc sighed and looked up into her eyes. He shook his head. "I don't need any." He touched her cheek, fingers brushing the hair from her face. "I already have everything I need."

~vVv~


	14. Chapter 14

It felt very strange to be back in Sickbay. Even stranger that it was _still _her sickbay. The young, familiar faces of her staff were constant reminders that her ten year absence had only been a few weeks for them. And though she knew she looked older, no one seemed to bat an eye. They simply made her feel at home.

She released a tired sigh. She felt older as well as looked older. They all did. A few more lines around their eyes, a little more grey in their hair. But although their years on the mountain had been hard, they'd also been kind. Beverly smiled down at Jean-Luc where he lay on the biobed. Even though he was the oldest, he'd actually aged the least. She brushed her hand over his forehead. He'd looked the same to her for twenty years.

"Beverly?"

"Shh, you're not supposed to talk."

He squinted his eyes. "But my head feels funny."

"That's because you have some very small nanites crawling around in there repairing some neural connections. I told you all about them fifteen minutes ago."

"I don't...remember."

"Shh, it's all right. You may experience a little trouble with your short term memory during the procedure, but everything will be just fine in about half an hour. Just lie still and quiet." She moved her hand down to his shoulder and rubbed the soft smoothness of his dark green shirt.

An in-depth brain scan had confirmed her suspicions. Jean-Luc had suffered neural damage during the shuttle accident ten years earlier. The injury could have easily been healed had Sickbay's medical technology been available to her, but with her limited resources on the mountain, she hadn't been able to repair the damage. All she'd had was her tricorder, her medical kit, and the shuttle's emergency supplies. Thankfully, she'd had enough instruments and drugs to keep him alive, but a total recovery had been impossible. Until now. And yet, just minutes away from a goal she'd virtually given up on long ago, she couldn't help but think of all the years Jean-Luc had lived with his injury. Not a day had gone by that she hadn't silently cursed the situation. Damn it, she was a doctor and she couldn't heal the man she loved, the friend who had always been there for her. She'd always felt as if she'd let him down.

She jumped slightly when she felt his hand touch hers, large, blunt fingers caressing her long, slender ones. She focused on Jean-Luc's face again, having turned her gaze inward to the past. He smiled up at her, even though the creases around his eyes revealed his discomfort. The treatment didn't actually hurt, but she knew that having to be in sickbay was painful for him. He was never an easy patient.

"What about...my arm?" he mumbled.

Beverly sighed. "I've knitted the bone together, but if you don't stop talking, I'll break it again." Her words were softened by the playful quality in her voice and the smile that lit her eyes.

But Jean-Luc detected a hint of serious warning in her tone. He frowned and squinted his eyes tighter in mock consternation at her veiled threat. "But I can't really move it," he persisted, the fingers of his right hand lifting slightly from his stomach where they rested.

Beverly gently covered his hand with hers. "That's because you're not supposed to be moving it yet. And you're _not _supposed to be talking." The last words were spoken firmly.

Still, Jean-Luc pursed his lips in preparation for a response. But before he was able to speak, Beverly bent down and kissed him. For several breathless seconds, he enjoyed the pressure of her mouth on his. And when she stopped kissing him and pulled back, she immediately placed a finger against his lips.

"Now, don't say another word or I'll kiss you again and my staff will start to talk."

Jean-Luc's eyes glinted up at her. "Let them," he breathed, his good hand reaching up around her neck and drawing her head back down to his.

This time, the kiss was a little bit longer and more intense, and Beverly almost forgot that her lover just happened to be her patient at the moment. She broke the kiss, but kept her face just inches from his.

"You've changed," she whispered, knowing that he was aware of the medical staff around them, and yet not concerned about their reactions to the chief medical officer and the captain kissing in the middle of sickbay.

"For the better, I hope."

"Most definitely," she assured him, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. "But please, stop talking, or I'll have to sedate you."

Jean-Luc nodded slightly in agreement, removing his hand from Beverly's neck. She straightened and glanced around the room. Several pairs of eyes quickly averted their gaze, except for Alyssa Ogawa's. She stood on the other side of Sickbay, smiling at her supervisor, an "it's about time" expression on her face.

Beverly's cheeks felt flushed. She was slightly embarrassed by their audience, and slightly aroused by Jean-Luc's kisses. _Perhaps I should have chosen a private room_, she thought, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. She checked the readings on the side of the biobed, forcing her thoughts back into a professional manner. Jean-Luc's heart rate, blood pressure, respiration, and temperature were all slightly elevated. She knew that the nanites were causing a marginal increase in his vital signs, but kissing him in the middle of the procedure had probably not helped matters. She brushed her hand over his forehead again.

"Jean, close your eyes and rest. It won't be long now," she whispered.

He smiled faintly and allowed his eyelids to fall shut. Within minutes, he'd fallen asleep.

Beverly pulled a chair over to his bed and sat down. She would refrain from kissing him, but she wasn't about to leave his side.

~vVv~

Deanna sighed as she watched the boys roam around the small confines of her quarters. She'd had the replicator produce some new toys for Matilda, but her sons weren't as easily satisfied.

"Why can't we go outside?" Thomas complained.

Sam looked at his younger brother and rolled his eyes. "Because there's no outside to go to." He leaned against the viewport. "Just space."

"I meant outside the cabin," Thomas clarified, looking over his shoulder at Deanna. "Can we, Mom?"

Deanna shifted Lucy to her other shoulder. She knew they were bored having to stay in the cabin. "Your father's going to take you on a tour of the ship this afternoon."

"It's really big, isn't it?" Sam said, crossing over and sitting down on the floor in front of Deanna. Thomas joined him. Matilda played nearby.

Deanna nodded. "It is big. And there are some decks that children aren't allowed on."

"What are decks?" Thomas asked.

Deanna smiled, realizing the "starship language" the children would have to learn. "Decks are like levels or floors. Remember how the mission house had two floors, an upstairs and a downstairs? Well,  
the _Enterprise _has 42 decks. And we live on Deck Eight."

"That's a lot of levels," Sam said. "I can't wait to see them."

"Do we get to see the bridge?" Thomas piped up. He'd already had a long conversation with Will at the breakfast table about where his father spent most of his time.

"I'm sure your daddy and Uncle Jean-Luc will show it to you this afternoon," Deanna replied, knowing that their captain's reluctance at having children on the bridge had probably dissipated. "Now, I'm going to put Lucy down for a nap," she said as she stood up, "and when I come back, we'll build a fort."

"A fort?" Thomas stared at his mother.

"You'll see," she promised.

~vVv~

"Shh."

His eyes blinked open and all he could see was the red veil of Beverly's hair covering his face. Her cheek was pressed close to his, and soft lips touched his temple and whispered into his ear.

"I'm here."

They were familiar, reassuring words - words he'd heard so often in the past ten years. And even before that: times on the _Enterprise _when she'd comforted him following one ordeal or another. And now, here they were on the _Enterprise _again, at last, and she was still with him. He breathed a sigh of relief, realizing where he was, and then he stiffened slightly with the knowledge that he must have cried out.

Beverly's hand rubbed over his chest soothingly. "You're all right." She drew away from him so that he could see into her eyes.

"I'm...I'm all right?"

She smiled. "Completely." She took hold of his hand. "Would you like to sit up?"

He nodded, and she helped him into a sitting position, pulling his legs around so that they hung over the edge of the biobed. She leaned slightly against him, her hands pressed on top of his thighs. "You are perfectly healthy...Captain."

He arched one eyebrow as the hand slid higher on his thigh. "Doctor..." he warned, his voice husky.

Beverly moved her hand back to his knee.

He gave a slight cough to clear his throat, and then smiled. "You have a wonderful bedside manner, but it's...a little too crowded here." He glanced around the sickbay. One technician stood on the far side, his back to them.

Beverly laughed softly. "You call this a crowd? Compared to our family, this is virtual isolation."

Jean-Luc's smile broadened. "Speaking of our family, I miss them. How long have I been here?"

"Just a few hours. The kids are fine." She ran her fingers along the side of his head. "They're with Will, remember?"

"I remember. Didn't he say something about lunch?"

The corners of Beverly's lips turned up in a grin. "Are you hungry?"

"Starved."

"Well, then, we'd better get going."

She held his arm as he slipped off the biobed; he steadied himself beside her. Unconsciously, he looked around for his cane. And in those few seconds, Beverly knew what he was looking for.

"You don't need it anymore, Jean-Luc."

He turned back to her, a small trace of doubt in his expression. The cane had been a part of him for so long.

She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "I promise," she whispered.

And he believed her.

~vVv~

If the Rikers' cabin had had a chandelier, then there would have been kids hanging from it, Jean-Luc decided as he and Beverly walked into the counselor and first officer's quarters fifteen minutes later. There were toys strewn across the floor, books piled on tables, and cushions from the sofa stacked precariously on top of the furniture with blankets spread on top of them: tents and fortresses of the plush variety. The children crawled under, around, and through them as if the sitting area were a maze. To one side, Will and Deanna sat calmly at the dining table holding a cup of coffee and a cup of hot chocolate respectively.

Before they could even exchange a greeting, Andrew's head surfaced from behind the sofa. He grinned at his parents. "Are you all right, Papa?"

"I'm fine now," Jean-Luc answered.

Margaret got up off the floor and went over to her father, her small hand sneaking into his large one. She didn't say anything, just looked up at him with wide grey eyes.

He smiled at her reassuringly. "Your mama took care of me." He squeezed her hand. "I'm all right."

"And just in time for lunch," Deanna said, standing up from the table and moving over to the food dispenser. "Margaret and I have a surprise," she added, reaching an arm toward her niece.

Margaret dropped her father's hand, and, with a smile, she went and stood next to her aunt. Deanna placed her hands on the girl's shoulders. Margaret looked up with a questioning gaze.

Deanna nodded. "Go ahead," she prompted.

Margaret drew in a deep breath. "Computer...lunch, program one."

A platter of food appeared in the recess of the food dispenser, and although all of them couldn't immediately see what it was, the aroma was unmistakable.

"Fried chicken!" Thomas exclaimed, crawling out from under a cushion.

"I want the drumstick," Walker insisted, rolling off the sofa and hitting the floor with a thud.

"I want one, too," Andrew said.

"What about me?" Will laughed.

"There are enough drumsticks for everyone," Deanna assured them as she lifted the platter out of the dispenser.

Margaret grinned. "Yeah. We programmed ten of them."

Jean-Luc smiled at his daughter's terminology. "And did you program some vegetables?"

She nodded. "Um-um. Corn and peas. But no carrots."

Jean-Luc's smile broadened. Margaret hated carrots.

"And we're having chocolate cake for dessert," she added.

"I'm impressed," Beverly said. "Now let's see if the boys can set the table."

Andrew groaned. "But, Mama, setting the table's harder than talking to a wall."

The adults laughed, and so did the children. And in the midst of their laughter, the table was set and spread with food. And then they all sat down and ate together for the first time on the_ Enterprise._

"It's like Thanksgiving," Jean-Luc commented as he watched Will portion out the drumsticks.

"Without the turkey," Beverly replied.

Jean-Luc leaned back in his chair. "Well, we'll just have to make do with Will."

~vVv~

He knew they made quite a sight as they trooped through the ship – captain and first officer in civilian dress with five children trailing behind them. But, still, everywhere they went, they were greeted with smiles and kind words. Everyone was eager to meet the newest crewmembers. They explained the different departments and ship systems in simple language that the children could understand. And when they finally reached the bridge, it was the icing on the cake – the perfect ending to a wondrous afternoon.

Jean-Luc and Will stepped out of the turbolift first, with Walker sitting astride his father's hip. Now that his injuries had been healed, the boy was no trouble to carry, and Jean-Luc had found the safest place for him was securely entrenched in his arms. They'd almost lost him in the aeroponics bay – something Beverly wouldn't have been happy about.

Silence descended on the bridge when they emerged from the lift, and Jean-Luc cast a smile in Will's direction. No doubt several of the bridge crew were remembering that day many years ago when Wesley had stepped onto the bridge. The irony was not lost on either of them.

"Is that where you sit?" Andrew asked, pointing at the center chair that Data had just vacated.

Jean-Luc nodded. "When I'm on the bridge. And when I'm not, Uncle Will sits there. And sometimes Mister Data." He glanced over at his second officer. "As you were, Data."

With a cock of his head, Data resumed his seat.

They stepped down the ramp to the lower bridge, the children following closely, their eyes drawn to the viewscreen.

"We're going really fast, aren't we?" Margaret queried, her hand sneaking its way into her father's grasp.

"Very fast," Will answered.

"How fast, Dad?" Sam asked, staring up at his father.

"About… What, Data? Warp seven?" He tried to gauge the feel of the deck beneath his feet. Even with inertial dampeners, you didn't spend over twenty years on starships without getting a sense of its power and speed.

"Seven point three," Data intoned.

And Will smiled. "Close enough."

Thomas squinted up at him. "What does warp mean?"

Will sighed. "Why don't we save that for school? We've got some good teachers onboard. I'll bet Lieutenant Gladstrom will be more than happy to explain the rudimentary physics of warp drive."

Thomas rolled his eyes at his father. They had visited the school rooms earlier in the tour, and both fathers had assured them that they would be spending a lot of time there.

Jean-Luc chuckled at his nephew's reaction and stepped toward his Ready Room door. "Let's go in here. There's someone I'd like you to meet."

Will cast a questioning glance toward his captain, and then remembered – Livingston.

The children crowded into the room, looking around at the model starship, the antique books, and then making a beeline for the aquarium.

"Fish!" Walker squealed, pushing at his father's embrace to get down.

Jean-Luc let him slide to the deck and join the others at the tank.

"Well, one fish, at least. His name is Livingston."

"He's pretty, Papa," Margaret observed, and then turned away from the glass enclosure. "But don't you think he gets lonely without any other fish friends?"

Will grinned at the bemused expression on Jean-Luc's face, waiting for his response.

"Well, I guess I never thought about that."

Perhaps having one fish in his aquarium was a comment on his former lifestyle. Maybe now was time to add some more.

"Next time we have the opportunity to get more fish, we shall," he promised to the delight of his daughter who smiled and turned back to the spikey-finned fish that swam lazily behind the glass.

He had surely increased the size of his family. He supposed he could do no less for Livingston.

~vVv~

"Papa's going to get more fish for Livingston because he needs a family," Margaret was explaining as she swept her spoon around the bottom of the dish, making sure to get every last drop of ice cream.

"I think that's an excellent idea," Guinan agreed from the other side of the table.

"Only it can't be another lionfish," Thomas added, "cause they'll fight each other."

"They _might_ fight each other," Sam pointed out, "and it's better to be safe than sorry."

Will smiled at hearing one of Deanna's favorite sayings coming out of his oldest son. The two of them were so much alike.

"I agree," Guinan remarked. "I remember once I had two Gublerian barnacle fish that had to live side by side in two separate aquariums. They couldn't get along with each other in one aquarium, but if I moved them away from each other, they were positively depressed."

"How did you know they were depressed? They were fish," Margaret wondered.

"Oh, I knew because they told me."

Thomas's eyes widened. "They told you?"

And Guinan launched into a fantastical tale of talking fish, which actually had some factual ingredients as well.

Jean-Luc leaned back in his seat and shared a satisfied glance with his first officer. He'd known before they'd even entered Ten Forward that the children would be drawn to Guinan. She had a way with all people, especially children.

Since he'd heard this particular story before, he cut his eyes toward the viewport, inviting Will to join him. Together they slipped away from the table, leaving the children enthralled by the El-Aurian's words.

"I think we may have found the perfect babysitter," Will commented, looking back at the table.

Walker was happily perched on Guinan's knee, and Margaret and the older boys were thoroughly engaged.

"I've always known that Guinan was the perfect sitter for people of all ages, Number One."

Will grinned. "It's been a long time since you've called me that; it sounds good."

Jean-Luc returned the grin. "It does, doesn't it? I was trying it out, and it felt right. And yet…"

"What?"

"We need to go back to work, Will."

He nodded. "I agree."

Jean-Luc gazed over at him. "I'm a little uncomfortable, though."

A genuinely puzzled expression lit Will's features. "Why is that, sir?"

"There… Right there…" He pointed a finger at Will. "You called me 'sir.' You haven't called me 'sir' in over eight years."

"And you haven't called me Number One in just as long."

"We haven't been in a command structure for a long time. I don't think of you as a subordinate; on the mountain, we were equals – two men simply trying to do the best for our families."

Will tilted his head, started to say something, then hesitated.

But Jean-Luc noticed. "What?"

The younger man licked his lips, then jumped in. "You may have felt like we were equals, but I never really did."

"Will, if I ever did anything to make you feel-"

"No. You never did. We worked side by side; we built our cabins, tilled the land, both raised some fine children. But I always looked up to you… Even after I came to accept that you would never be my captain again, you were always a…" He hesitated, searching for the right word.

Jean-Luc eyed him warily. "Please don't say father figure. I feel old enough when it comes to my own children."

Will laughed. "I was going to say mentor, but you do have a nice fatherly quality."

"Umph," he huffed lightly and turned back to the viewport.

"I have no regrets going back into a command structure with you as my captain. Please don't feel uncomfortable."

Jean-Luc nodded. "As long as we're on equal ground when we're off duty."

"Now that we're back, will we ever really be completely off duty?"

He sighed. "Point taken." And then a smile turned up the corners of his lips and lit his eyes. "But will you still call me by my first name every now and then?"

"By all means… Jean-Luc."

~vVv~


	15. Chapter 15

It was long after midnight, and still he could not sleep. He lay on his back, staring at the stars above him: different stars than the ones that hung over the mountain, but stars nonetheless - comforting, peaceful, familiar. As were the sounds that surrounded him in the relative darkness of their cabin: the children's soft breathing, the regular beating of his heart, the steady hum of the ship's engines. He noticed the last sound more than he had years ago. He supposed he would soon grow accustomed to it and not notice it quite as much as he did now; he would get used to it. They all would.

The small body wedged in between his and Beverly's turned over, and settled back down onto the bed, the little red head disappearing halfway under the covers.

Jean-Luc smiled, and then said quietly, "They'll need rooms of their own, Beverly." He knew she was awake, although neither of them had spoken to each other for almost half an hour. Sometimes, the silences they shared meant more than their conversations.

"I know," she whispered in response, "but it's only been two nights. They'd end up right back where they are now even if we moved them into their own rooms."

"You're right, but I still had maintenance convert the conference room next door into two bedrooms and another bathroom. Once they make a door in the wall behind the dining area, we'll have an extension, complete with a hallway and a back door leading to the corridor."

Beverly was quiet for several long moments. And then Jean-Luc felt the bed move as she carefully rolled onto her side. In the pale light of the room, he could see her staring at him over Walker's sleeping form. "It doesn't seem real, does it? Being here, with the children?"

He reached a hand out and gently caressed her cheek, brushing the fine strands of hair behind her ear. "No. It doesn't seem real yet. But it feels good. And right."

Beverly covered his hand with her own, moved it to her mouth, and tenderly kissed his fingers. "I love you," she murmured.

Jean-Luc drew in a breath, releasing it with a contented sigh. "And I love you."

~vVv~

The next day was a busy one. The children spent a few hours at school, getting to know their teachers and some of the other youngsters on the ship. Beverly and Deanna offered to stay with them, but the older boys claimed that they didn't need their mothers tagging along behind them. Margaret, not wanting to hurt her mother's or aunt's feelings, said that she would be happy if they stayed, but assured them that she would be fine on her own. She wasn't about to let the boys call her a scaredy-cat. And besides, she really wasn't that scared. She had liked Lieutenant Gladstrom immediately. She had red hair just like Mama's.

At lunchtime, Will retrieved them and brought them back to their respective cabins, which had both been redesigned to provide more living space. The door had been cut between the converted conference room and Jean-Luc's cabin. And the spare quarters next to Deanna's had also been converted to give the Rikers more space as well.

Margaret hesitated at the door of her room, looking back over her shoulder at Beverly. "I'm going to sleep here?"

"And Andrew and Walker will be right next door. Your Papa and I thought you might like to have a room of your own."

"It's nice," she allowed, running her fingers over the dressing vanity with its mirrored panels. Books and dolls and stuffed animals filled the shelves. Not too many, but more than she'd had on the mountain. The old ragdoll that Beverly had made her held the place of honor in the center of the double bed. Margaret sank onto the edge of it, and Beverly joined her, wrapping an arm securely around her shoulders.

"You'll get used to it. I promise."

The girl blinked up at her. "I know. I really do like it. It's just…so different than…"

Beverly sighed, knowing what she was thinking. "It's all right to say it, Margaret. It's different than home."

She nodded, but drew in a deep breath, her expression suddenly so like Jean-Luc's that Beverly almost laughed. "But this is home now," she breathed, strength gathering behind the quiet words.

Beverly smiled and gave her a strong hug. "It is." She stood and pulled on her daughter's hand. "Come on now. I have some pictures to show you."

Margaret looked up, her eyes lighting with interest. "Wesley?"

"Um-um. And I have other pictures of my family and Papa's family."

Eagerly, Margaret followed her into the main living area where Jean-Luc and the boys were busy putting a jigsaw puzzle together. Beverly gathered the picture albums from the shelf and situated herself on the couch.

"We're going to look at family pictures," Margaret announced.

And within minutes, the entire family was gathered around the albums meeting relatives they'd never thought they'd know or see again.

~vVv~

"And no one thought to inform me?!" The voice was bordering on shrill, and Deanna looked away from the computer monitor, shot a pleading glance toward Will.

He leaned over and stuck his head into view. "They were busy trying to locate us. I apologize for Starfleet's breech in protocol."

She looked like a peacock with her tail feathers ruffled, Will thought, suppressing a laugh, but not the grin that crossed his face. Somehow, in the back of his mind, he'd always known that he'd wind up with Lwaxana Troi as his mother-in-law. At least, he'd always hoped he would.

"Mother, just be thankful they found us – and your grandchildren," Deanna said, trying to ease the older woman's wounded pride.

That made her settle down a bit, a look of grandmotherly protectiveness stealing into her eyes. "I want to see them," she smiled. "Will, go get them."

It was definitely an order, and Will hopped to it. He didn't have to go far to find them. The boys were perched on the edge of the couch on the opposite side of the room, sitting perfectly still, staring at their mother as she spoke again to the computer screen. They'd heard the voice and it had intimidated them. The voice belonged to their grandmother – sort of like a screech owl in the middle of the night. Even Matilda sat on the floor at their feet, seemingly aware that something was going on.

"You heard her, boys." Will reached down and took Sam's chin in one hand and Thomas's chin in the other, turning their faces, inspecting their appearances. On the mountain, he was so accustomed to smudges of dirt on their cheeks, that it was a hard habit to break. He smoothed his hand down over a wayward strand of Sam's black hair, then ruffled Thomas's chestnut brown strands. He scooped Matilda off the floor and planted a kiss on her cheek. She giggled and pulled at his beard, giving him a wet kiss of her own. He transferred her into Sam's arms, and pushed both boys toward Deanna. "Go on over there. I'll go get Lucy."

Sam and Thomas crossed the room slowly, eying their mother cautiously. The lady on the computer was still loud and demanding.

"I know where Thomas's name came from, but where did you get Sam?"

Deanna sighed. "We just liked the name, Mother. His middle name is Troi," she added, hoping to placate her.

And the older woman's voice softened. "Troi. Your father would have liked that."

Deanna smiled and held her arm out to the boys, taking Sam by the elbow and pulling him closer. "This is Sam and Matilda."

Instantly, tears filled Lwaxana's eyes. "Oh, my, you are beautiful. Both of you."

Deanna scooted back from the desk, making room. "And this is Thomas."

"All of you. Simply beautiful. I'm your Grandmother Lwaxana," she instructed. "And I can't wait to see you in person. And when I come, I am going to bring you so many gifts."

"Mother!" Deanna's voice held a familiar tone of warning.

"I've been separated from my grandchildren for ten years and you won't let me bring gifts," she complained.

"Mother, you haven't been separated from them. You only found out about them ten minutes ago."

"Still, a grandmother only has so many things she can do for her grandchildren, and…" Her voice trailed off as Will leaned over and held Lucy in front of the monitor.

"Lwaxana, meet Lwaxana," he introduced. "Also known as Lucy."

Deanna was amazed. Her mother was speechless. But only for a moment.

"You named her after me. Really? And he didn't object?" She looked pointedly at Will.

Deanna smiled. "No. We were all in agreement. Lwaxana Kestra Riker."

Lwaxana sighed and held a hand to her lips. "Oh, Deanna. She's beautiful. They're all beautiful, sweetheart. So beautiful. I always knew the two of you would make beautiful babies. I can't wait to hold them."

"And we can't wait to see you," Deanna assured, feeling her own tears prick at her eyes.

"I'll begin making plans now. You know my duties as an ambassador are grueling. Absolutely grueling. But so rewarding. But seeing you is so much more important. The Betazed council will just have to understand that I have more pressing family matters to attend to. I'll contact you tomorrow with my itinerary."

"We look forward to seeing you, Mother."

"We do look forward to seeing you, Grandmother," Will put in, grinning at the monitor.

"You take care of my grandchildren," she warned, wagging her finger at Will.

"He's taken care of us for ten years, Mother." And Deanna leaned over and placed a kiss on Will's bearded cheek.

~vVv~

They were alone. For the first time in over eight years. No children on the other side of the room, no sounds of gentle breathing or coughing. No rustle of sheets or the creaking of wooden beds as their occupants turned restlessly in their sleep.

Beverly stood next to the doorway, half turned toward the living area, expecting to hear one of them call out for her at any moment.

But Jean-Luc had a little more faith in his children's sleeping patterns. "They're asleep, Beverly," he said softly, looking up at her from where he sat on the edge of their bed.

She sighed, and he could see her shoulders drop, releasing a small degree of tension. "I know; they just...seem so far away." She turned and smiled in his direction.

"They're close enough," he assured, standing up and crossing over to her. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply. "Besides, it's not as if you'll be sleeping alone."

Beverly gave a gentle laugh and returned his embrace. "I have a feeling I might not be sleeping at all."

Jean-Luc pulled back slightly and gazed into her eyes. "Could you possibly be thinking what I'm thinking?"

Beverly ran her hand down the front of his pajama shirt, fingers caressing the firm muscles of his chest and stomach, coming to rest on one slim hip.

He drew in a deep breath and smiled. "I think that answers my question," he said, his voice deepening with desire.

He let go of her and reached up to unbutton the front of the dress she was wearing. "You, cherie, are overdressed for this party."

Beverly giggled.

And Jean-Luc frowned, his fingers stopping at the third button. "What?"

Beverly sighed and shook her head. "It's just... It's been a long time since we've spoken during foreplay."

His frown deepened. "Beverly, let's not be so...technical."

The smile on her face broadened, and she ran her fingers along his cheek. "I'm sorry." She dropped her hand to his, and gently guided it inside the top of her dress. "Now...where were we?"

The frown on his face disappeared, replaced with a grin. "I was just about to kiss you," he murmured, gently squeezing her breast. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, his tongue slipping into her mouth.

Beverly groaned and pushed him back toward the bed. They fell onto it, arms and legs entwining. A few seconds later, Beverly pulled back, breaking the kiss. They each took a deep breath, let it out slowly.

Jean-Luc ran his fingers through her hair, and then placed several tiny kisses across her forehead. "I love you," he whispered.

Beverly smiled up at him. "I love you."

He grinned again. "But you are still overdressed."

Beverly touched his pajama shorts, her hand rubbing his thigh. "That makes two of us."

"I think we can remedy that."

A few moments later, the blue dress and the grey pair of pajamas lay in a pile next to the bed, and their former occupants lay nestled together under the blankets, hands tenderly caressing each other. Beverly pushed her head closer to Jean-Luc's on the pillow, gently kissing his ear.

"Umm...that tickles," he breathed.

"Really?" She kissed him again.

"Really," he growled playfully, rolling on top of her. He braced himself on his elbows, his hands cupping her head. "You are so beautiful."

Beverly reached up and traced her fingers along his shoulders and back. "So are you." She smiled. "Now stop talking and make love to me."

~vVv~

He lay on his back, the sheet pulled over him, sweat drying on his body. Beverly lay curled next to him, her head cushioned on his shoulder, her fingers idly brushing the damp hair on his chest. His fingers pulled gently through her strands of tangled, red hair. He exhaled a deep sigh of contentment. It had been a long time since they'd had such freedom in their lovemaking. On the mountain, the children had always been just beyond the curtain on the other side of the cabin.

Beverly sighed and snuggled closer to him. "I love you, Mister Picard."

Jean-Luc laughed softly. "And I love you, Mrs. Picard."

Beverly sighed again and propped her head up on her hand. She stared down at Jean-Luc. "Only I'm not Mrs. Picard," she said quietly with a touch of regret. "Not really."

Jean-Luc squinted his eyes up at her. "What are you talking about?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"Jean-Luc, we we're never actually married. And neither were Will and Deanna."

He rolled over on his side and propped his head up as well. "But Beverly, we made a commitment to each other years ago."

"Yes, we did." She smiled, remembering the picnic they'd had beside the river, just the two of them, their decision to live together as husband and wife. "And I do feel married to you, in every sense of the word," she grinned playfully and ran a hand down his side, coming to rest warmly on his hip. "But, I'd sort of like to marry you...officially."

"You mean a wedding?" Jean-Luc breathed, one eyebrow arching.

She nodded. "Perhaps in Ten Forward. I'm sure we could find another captain or an admiral somewhere who'd be willing to marry us. And the children could be there, and all our friends. Will and Deanna may even want to make it a double wedding."

Jean-Luc drew in a deep breath, his tired mind trying to keep up with Beverly's thoughts. He'd considered her his wife now for almost ten years; it had never occurred to him that they needed a ceremony to make it any more real than it already was. But if that was what she wanted, then he wanted it, too.

"Could we plan it tomorrow?" he asked, suppressing a yawn.

Beverly smiled and settled back onto the bed, gently pulling him down with her. "I think tomorrow will be soon enough," she whispered, smoothing her hand over his head. "After all, we've waited this long already, what's a few more days?"

Jean-Luc sighed. A few more days. He thought next month would be soon enough. But he didn't say anything. If his wife wanted to get married, who was he to argue?

~vVv~

He took a long sip of the hot liquid and sighed with contentment. Although they'd had tea in the mountains, Earl Grey had not been his usual cup of it, so to speak. Only the very large towns sold it, and since they rarely traveled out of the cove, it had become a forgotten luxury. He'd grown accustomed to the regular blend, but now, back on board the _Enterprise_, he was fast making up for lost time, consuming ten to twelve cups a day, much to Beverly's dismay. It was a stimulant, she argued, and it would deprive him of much needed sleep. But he'd proved her wrong. In the four days since their return, excluding their first night back, he'd never slept better in his life.

He took another sip of the tea, savoring the warmth. The very taste of it helped root him to their new reality. _Or old reality, _he thought, depending on how you looked at it.

A slight noise drew his attention away from the steaming cup in his hand and he looked up. Margaret stood at the door of their quarter's new hallway. She was staring at him, her eyes large.

"Good morning," he said softly, setting his teacup on the table beside him.

She blinked and swallowed. And he realized that she was frightened. And he knew why. He was sure that he presented an imposing image in his tailored maroon and black uniform. He should have worn his grey one with the jacket. It was more casual, more reminiscent of the mountain clothes the children were used to seeing him wear.

He smiled at her. "It's all right, Margaret." He held his arms out. "Come sit with me."

She moved slowly into the room, her plain cotton nightgown billowing around her legs. It was almost dreamlike, watching her cross the floor of the cabin. His daughter was so familiar to him, but here, in these surroundings, she seemed out of place. _As we all do, _he realized with a sigh.

When she reached him, he pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her. "You're up early."

She nodded and leaned her head against his chest. Her eyes stared sleepily at the red sleeve of his uniform. That's what the outfit was called. Mama had explained it to them. Almost all the adults on the ship wore uniforms. Red or blue or gold. Margaret remembered seeing Mister Data for the first time. Had she not been so frightened, she probably would have laughed. His gold and black suit reminded her of Papa's long underwear, as did the red and black one that Papa had on now. Only they were more fitted, not as loose and baggy as Papa's old long johns. And the uniform's fabric was scratchy and stiff against her cheek. It wasn't like Papa's real clothes. Nothing like his blue and green plaid shirt. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine the warm feel of the faded flannel next to her skin.

But her imagination wasn't working so early in the morning, and she blinked her eyes open. Maybe Mama could get another plaid shirt for Papa from the place in the wall. That's where she'd gotten clothes for her and Andrew and Walker. She knew it was called a replicator, but Margaret still thought it was magic.

"You're awfully quiet this morning," Jean-Luc said, running his hand over her hair, pressing her closer against his shoulder.

The gold pin on his chest caught Margaret's attention, and she reached out and tentatively touched her finger to it.

"That's a communicator," he explained, answering her unspoken question. Gently, he covered her fingers with his. There had been a lot of questions in the past four days. "If I want to talk with someone, all I have to do is touch it and then speak, and no matter where that other person is, he'll hear me."

"Like the telephone at the mission house," Margaret breathed in wonder. She remembered the day they'd completed stringing the lines between El Pano and Cutter Gap. She still couldn't understand how voices could travel through a wire. And now, with Papa's communicator, the voices could travel through air. But even people could travel through air in this world.

She sighed. She didn't think she would ever get used to it. Papa didn't even look like Papa anymore. Even though this was the first time she'd seen him in his uniform, on the other days the clothes he'd worn had looked different as well. Not as different, but the material of his shirts and trousers had been smoother and shinier, the colors rich and vibrant. Nothing like his old clothes. And he didn't limp anymore, or stutter when he was tired. She knew that long ago, before she was born, he'd been hurt. And that's why he needed his cane. But he didn't need it anymore, although it was still propped against the wall behind his desk.

She snuggled closer into his embrace and relaxed. At least his arms still felt the same, and if it wasn't for the stiffness of his uniform and the ever present sound of the ship's engines, Margaret could have almost imagined that they were sitting on the front porch watching the sun rise above the trees.

"Well, you two look comfortable." Beverly's voice came from the other side of the room. She walked toward the table, closing her dressing gown around her, and then brushing her hair back over her shoulders. "Is anyone else awake?"

"Just us, I think," Jean-Luc replied. "And I'm not sure how awake Margaret is," he added with a grin, patting her on the back.

The girl drew in a long deep breath and hunched her shoulders before allowing them to fall back into place. "I'm awake," she proclaimed. "And I'm hungry." She eyed the plate of food on the table for the first time. "What are those?"

Jean-Luc glanced at the plate sitting next to his teacup. "Ah... Those are croissants," he answered, casting his eyes up at Beverly. Their long ago, simple breakfast fare would be something new and unusual to their daughter. "They're like…bread…and like pastry," he tried to explain.

"Like biscuits?" Margaret asked.

Jean-Luc smiled and looked to his wife for help with his unsuccessful explanation.

"Not exactly like biscuits," Beverly said. "But fluffy...only in a different way."

Jean-Luc reached over and broke off a piece of croissant. He handed it to Margaret. "Here...try a bite," he offered.

Margaret took the piece of bread from her father's fingers, and then took a small nibble of it. It tasted light and buttery, and she pushed the rest of it into her mouth and chewed it quickly.

A broad smile broke across Jean-Luc's face. "I take it that you like it," he said, picking up the rest of the croissant and giving the crescent shaped roll to his daughter.

She nodded, and happily took another bite. Jean-Luc took a croissant for himself and dipped it into the puddle of orange marmalade on the plate beside it. "It's good like this, too," he said, taking a bite.

Margaret followed her father's example. "Umm," she hummed at the sweet taste of the marmalade.

Beverly shook her head at her husband and daughter's mutual appreciation of buttered croissants and marmalade. It was an image she'd never thought she'd see. Croissants were unheard of in the mountains. And during the past decade, a bowl of oatmeal or grits had become their usual breakfast. She looked forward to introducing new foods to the children.

"Well, I'd better go wake up the boys before you two eat all the croissants."

Margaret looked up from the table. "That's all right, Mama, even if Papa and I do eat them, you can always get more from..." She hesitated and stared over at the wall. "From the...rep-li-cator," she pronounced it slowly and clearly.

Jean-Luc laughed between bites of his own croissant, and smiled over at Beverly. "Our children catch on fast," he observed.

Beverly returned his smile. "Too fast," she sighed, disappearing into the hallway.

~vVv~


	16. Chapter 16

"I think it's a wonderful idea," Deanna exclaimed. "I was thinking the same thing myself. And the children will understand that we want to have a wedding ceremony here on the ship, with all of our friends. I think Walker would make a wonderful ring bearer, and Matilda could be the flower girl."

Beverly nodded in agreement and stretched forward onto the mat. She and Deanna had left the children with their fathers and had escaped to one of the exercise rooms for a quick morning workout. Gentle stretching routines would be beneficial for Deanna after having Lucy, and Beverly liked the idea of being able to monitor her friend's exercise.

Her suggestion of a double wedding had been readily acceptable to Deanna. And the more Beverly thought about it, the more she liked the idea. After all they'd been through together, it seemed fitting and natural for them to share a wedding day. Her only regret was that Wesley wouldn't be there. She hadn't been able to contact him in over six months, ever since he'd gone to be with the Traveler. Six months for him, but almost ten years and six months for her. She knew that he would come to visit, but she had no way of knowing when and where.

"We could try to send a message to Dorvan V," Deanna suggested softly, staring over at her friend. "Perhaps he's gone back there."

Beverly looked up and smiled, not really surprised that Deanna had sensed who she was thinking about. "He's hasn't. I already tried. The first day we were back. They haven't seen him in over two months. He's out there on some...alternate plane of existence."

"I guess you could say that we've been out there as well for the past ten years," Deanna laughed, leaning forward and touching her knees and then straightening back to a sitting position.

"I know," Beverly sighed. "I kept wishing that his plane of existence would somehow intersect with ours."

"Speaking of family," Deanna smiled, "guess who I talked to yesterday afternoon."

"Lwaxana?"

"That's Grandmother Lwaxana," Deanna corrected with a laugh.

"How did she take the news?"

"She was...overjoyed. Well, not at first. At first, she was angry because Starfleet hadn't informed her of my disappearance. And then she was shocked to hear of our ten year adventure, relieved to find out that Will and I are together, and thrilled about her grandchildren. She can finally stop mourning for me."

"When can we expect her?" Beverly knew that it was only a matter of time before Lwaxana Troi would insist upon seeing her grandchildren.

"She's planning her trip now. She's terribly busy with her ambassadorial duties, but I expect to see her within a week." Deanna's mouth twisted in concentration. "Do you think we can plan a wedding in a week's time?"

"Oh, I think we can do anything we set our minds to. Don't forget, we carved out homes on the side of a mountain for the past ten years. Compared to that, planning a wedding is easy."

~vVv~

And it was, especially with all the help that they received. They would have it in Ten Forward. Data's string quartet would play traditional wedding music, and Guinan would take care of the food. Deanna asked Leslie Gladstrom to be her maid of honor, and Beverly asked Alyssa Ogawa; Margaret would be her junior bridesmaid. Will and Jean-Luc decided to have their sons stand beside them as best men. They would meet Lwaxana at Deep Space Nine, and, as Daughter of the Fifth House, Holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, and Heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed, she had already insisted on officiating. Both couples had accepted her "kind offer." "As long as she stays clothed," Jean-Luc had muttered, although he had to admit that he was looking forward to seeing her after a decade.

Unfortunately, they were too far away from Earth for any other members of their family to attend.

But not too far away to contact them, which Deanna insisted that Will do once they were settled into their new routine.

"He's your father, Will. He has a right to know about his grandchildren." Will started to protest, but she stopped him. "And since he really didn't disappear into the wilds of Alaska, you need to talk to him. He and Kate will want to know."

_He and Kate_. They were a couple again after all these years. And despite the mixed feelings Will had for his father at times, he was happy for them. They were both living and working in San Francisco now – Kate at Starfleet Medical and Kyle still doing pick-up work for the Federation. And over the past few years, their relationship had softened his father's rough edges, mellowed him a bit, but still…

"Will…" He detected that subtle edge in his wife's voice.

"All right, all right," he responded crossing over to the desk in their quarters and activating the computer. "Should we line the children up now?" he asked with a mischievous grin. "Or simply send holoimages?"

"He'll probably want to see the actual live versions. Otherwise, he'll think you're playing a practical joke on him."

This caused Will's grin to broaden. He hadn't thought of just how fun this would be.

The computer indicated that Earth time in San Francisco was a little after 1900 hours, so he keyed in his father's home comm address and waited a few moments. Then Kyle Riker's face filled the screen – first a look of confusion, followed by a genuine smile.

"Will, this is a surprise. I haven't heard from you in months."

It had actually been almost a year, but Will just nodded. _Almost a year plus ten for him._

"It has been a while."

"Where are you?" Kyle asked, knowing that the _Enterprise_ could be almost anywhere in the quadrant.

"Just the other side of Deep Space Nine," he answered.

And Kyle cocked an eyebrow. "Well, not too far, but far enough."

"How's Kate?"

"Oh, she's fine. Around here somewhere," he mused, looking back over his shoulder. "She's taken up cooking as a hobby. Damn good at it, too," he added, patting a hand to his stomach.

"So, you two are still…"

"Together," Kyle finished for him. "Yes, she puts up with me. Says I've settled down more in my old age." He smiled. "She's good for me, Will. And speaking of good women, how's Deanna?"

"Deanna…is beautiful."

"She always was. When are you going to wise up and marry her?"

Will laughed and leaned back in his chair. "Funny you should ask…"

Kyle's eyes widened. "Really? You're not kidding me? You asked? She said yes?"

"Well, there wasn't so much a proposal as there was an understanding. You see, Dad, Deanna and I have… Well, we've had a bit of an adventure…"

Twenty minutes later, the only words Will could think of to describe his father's expression were shell-shocked delight. By this time, Kate Pulaski was sitting next to him with an arm wrapped around his shoulder in support. Deanna mirrored her position beside Will.

"Four?!" he exclaimed, his eyes blinking.

And Will was sure that he saw a silver glint of tears in their brown depths.

"Two boys, two girls. Sam, Thomas, Matilda, and Lucy."

"And Beverly and Jean-Luc have children as well?" Kate asked.

"Two boys and a girl."

Kate smiled. "That's something I'd like to see – Jean-Luc Picard with children."

Deanna smiled. "Well, we've seen it for almost ten years now, so we're used to it. But, believe me, the crew is having quite a time with Papa Picard back in command."

"Congratulations, to both of you," Kyle said softly.

And Will heard the sincerity in his father's tone. "Thanks, Dad."

And the next few moments were quiet and filled with emotion. Until Kyle said, "Now I understand that extra grey at your temples. I suppose you're my older son now."

And Will leaned his head back and laughed. "That makes Thomas ten years younger. I hadn't thought of that." He fixed his eyes on his father. "He's still on the _Gandhi_. Have you spoken with him?"

Kyle sighed. "Last time I spoke to you. We're still not…" His words trailed off and he lowered his eyes. Then he looked up, taking a deep breath. "But I'll contact him. We'll work on it."

"I need to get in touch with him, too. Introduce him to his nieces and nephews," Will grinned, trying to lighten the moment.

"Not before you introduce them to their grandfather you won't. Where are they?"

"I'll go get them," Deanna said, giving Will's shoulder a gentle squeeze before she headed into the children's rooms.

Just as they had the day before, they crowded in around the monitor and shyly said hello to their only grandfather and step-grandmother. No one said very much – Deanna knew it was a bit overwhelming for the children, and perhaps just as overwhelming for the adults. But it was good to put faces to names and establish a deeper family bond.

"So, you'll be heading back toward Earth soon?" Kyle asked before they said goodbye.

"Within the next few months," Will offered. "I think we'll be close enough to visit."

And his father smiled. "I'd like that, son. I'd like that a lot."

"Me, too… Granddad."

~vVv~

"And this is Walker." Jean-Luc pulled the wriggling four-year-old onto his knee.

"Oh, we're so happy for you." Marie Picard smiled at him, but his eyes were on his brother, gauging his reaction, wondering what he would say.

And Robert was silent, holding his gaze for long moments. And then he spoke, "Congratulations, brother, you have a fine looking family." He shifted his eyes to Beverly, who leaned over Jean-Luc's shoulder. "And a beautiful wife." Another beat of silence. And then, "I'm proud of you."

Jean-Luc released the breath he hadn't been conscious of holding, felt Beverly squeeze his shoulder. "Thank you, Marie, Robert." He lifted one hand and touched Beverly's fingers. "We've been… very blessed." He wrapped his other arm around Andrew and Margaret who stood beside him. "And very fortunate to be back on the _Enterprise._"

"We wish you were closer to Earth so you could come for a visit," Marie said. "And I wish Rene wasn't away at school. He will be so excited to know he has cousins."

"We look forward to visiting," Beverly responded. "I know the children are eager to see where their father grew up. Jean-Luc's told them so many stories throughout the years."

Robert arched an eyebrow at his brother. "Stories?" he questioned.

And Jean-Luc smiled. "Good stories."

~vVv~

"So you made the old man a grandfather," Thomas Riker smiled at the idea of Kyle with grandkids. Somehow the image dulled the sharp edges of the man.

"And made you an uncle," Will added quietly, sensitive to the fact that, up to a point, he and Thomas were both essentially the same man who had first fallen in love with Deanna. Only she was with him, and not Thomas. A hard truth.

But the congratulations that Thomas offered seemed genuinely heartfelt. If he still harbored resentment, he hid it well.

"Thank you," Deanna extended, settling on the arm of Will's chair.

Thomas grinned, pulling his fingers down around his mouth and over his beard – a familiar gesture they both shared. "You named one after me? Or is he just named after us?" He looked pointedly at Will.

Deanna smiled. "He's named after you and your father – Thomas Kyle Riker."

"Personally, I was saving William for this last one, but she turned out to be a girl – Lucy."

"We named her after Lwaxana, but we thought Lucy would be easier."

Thomas laughed. "A hell of a lot easier." He exchanged a meaningful glance with Deanna. He knew Lwaxana Troi all those years ago, and he highly doubted that she had changed. "Just hope the name is all she's inherited from your mother."

"I'll second that," Will added.

And Thomas shook his head, expression sobering, suddenly becoming more serious. "So, how did you explain me to the children?"

Will sighed and cast his eyes downward. "Truth is… We haven't yet. They've been exposed to so much so quickly that… Well, transporter mishaps may cause some concern."

"Not to mention nightmares."

Will nodded. "They know I have a brother."

"Who looks exactly like you?"

"Not as much anymore," Will sighed, rubbing his fingers over the silver strands in his beard, acutely aware of the fact that Thomas' beard was still a solid brown.

"Still though…"

And Will shrugged. "Twins wouldn't be quite accurate."

"Nor truthful," Deanna supplied.

"We haven't been exactly truthful with them from the beginning," Will frowned. "When they asked where my father was, I told them he got lost in the Alaskan Territory."

Thomas laughed. "Well, that's not exactly a lie – there were times when Dad did get lost in the Alaskan Territory. Always managed to find his way home," he added with a sigh.

"He says he's going to contact you," Will said, giving him a heads up.

"Thanks for the warning," Thomas replied with a roll of his eyes.

"Give him a chance."

"Because you did?"

"No," Will grimaced, "because life's too damn short." He felt Deanna elbow him in the ribs. "All right – also because I did. And I'm glad I did. You might feel different if you actually talk to him."

"And listen," Deanna leaned closer to the computer monitor. "He may just say some things you need to hear."

Thomas threw up his hands in mock surrender. "All right, all right – I won't totally disregard him if he calls." He caught Deanna's gaze. "I'll give him a chance. But I'm not making any promises."

Deanna smiled.

And for a moment, something passed between them. A look, a connection that Will noticed and understood. He knew how much he'd loved Deanna all those years ago. Knew how much he loved her now. Knew that he was damned lucky to have her. Still felt a twinge of guilt that he was with her and Thomas wasn't. Felt unsure about introducing him to a family he could never have. At least, not with her.

But Thomas took a deep breath, and, with a familiar shrug of his shoulders and a cocky grin that Will had perfected years ago, he broke the silence and the sudden tension with his next words.

"So, do I get to see these nieces and nephews? Or do I need to wait until you figure out a way to explain me?"

The look in his eyes was hopeful, his request heartfelt. He really wanted to meet them.

Will glanced over at Deanna, and she nodded.

"We've told them that you and Will look a lot alike. I think now will be a good time for you to meet them." She sighed. "And we'll figure out the rest… later."

~vVv~


	17. Chapter 17

While Beverly and Deanna busied themselves with last minute wedding details, Jean-Luc and Will found time for an outing to the holodeck with the older children – fishing at Curtis Creek. Trying to use simple terms, they'd explained how the holodeck worked, but, not surprisingly, the children were still a bit confused.

"It doesn't look hollow," Thomas commented as they walked through the lush green forest, heading for the gurgling creek in the distance. "It looks real full to me."

Sam gave a weary sigh, as only an older brother can. "It's a holodeck, Thomas. Not a hollow deck."

"But why do they call it a holodeck?" Thomas shot a confused glance in Sam's direction.

Will grinned at his sons' conversation. Over the past several days, they'd had many discussions concerning the technological wonders aboard the _Enterprise_. Instead of fielding this question, he exchanged a glance with Jean-Luc and decided to let his eldest son answer.

"Cause everything you see here is… holo… holo…"

"Holographic," Margaret, who was leading the group along the well-worn path, tossed back over her shoulder. "Holographs are made of…" She stopped and turned around, looked back at Jean-Luc. "What are they made of, Papa?"

Jean-Luc smiled and answered his daughter. "Photons."

Margaret continued. "They're made of photons held together by force fields."

Jean-Luc shook his head. Of all the children, Margaret seemed to remember the most technological information. He'd told Beverly just the night before that she reminded him more and more of Wesley every day: sensitive, perceptive, intelligent.

Thomas considered her answer as he continued to follow his brother and cousins, but the explanation wasn't enough. "But what are photons?"

"Photons are…" Margaret started to reply but hesitated. "Papa…"

"I think that's another one for Lieutenant Gladstrom, don't you think, Will?" Jean-Luc said quickly.

"Oh, most definitely," the younger man agreed. "Besides, we're almost to the creek, and I'd rather catch fish than photons."

"Me, too," Walker readily agreed from where he sat perched high atop his uncle's shoulders.

"But Papa," Andrew spoke for the first time, "if the fish are made of photons, how can we eat them?"

Jean-Luc could tell he'd been thinking about this from the beginning of the conversation, turning it over in his mind, considering it from all angles.

"Not only can the holodeck create objects, but it has the ability to replicate material as well. Once we catch our fish, we can eat them."

"But we have to catch them first," Will reminded them, as they rounded a bend in the path and saw the creek.

"This creek is huge!" Sam exclaimed.

"Everything's bigger in Alaska!" Will grinned.

~vVv~

Two hours later, they'd caught a dozen fish, fried them over a campfire, and had a filling supper. Beverly, Deanna, Matilda, and Lucy had joined them, and now they were all enjoying the late afternoon sun as it dipped lower behind the trees. The children ran along the edge of the creek, climbing over rocks and fallen logs, skimming flat stones across the water's surface. Matilda played in the sand next to their picnic blanket, and Lucy slept peacefully in the baby basket that Deanna had brought from the mountain. Even with all the comforts of the 24th century, nothing could replace the basket that Will had woven for Sam before he was born. Every Riker and Picard child had been carried in that basket, nestled safe and secure amidst soft knitted blankets.

"I miss this." Deanna was the first to say what they were all thinking.

Will wrapped an arm around her, pulled her close into his shoulder. "I do, too." He looked around at the tall pines and the wide creek – a part of his childhood so easily recreated – a simple holodeck program. But he knew it wasn't Curtis Creek that she was missing. "I suppose we could-"

But she cut him off. "No, we can't." She sighed, knowing what he was thinking. "At least, not any time soon."

"Perhaps we should just plan to enjoy Curtis Creek on a regular basis," Beverly suggested. "Maybe once a week."

Jean-Luc leaned into her, taking her hand in his. "Is that a prescription, Doctor?"

Beverly smiled. "Just good medicine."

And the children's laughter drifted up to them on a gentle breeze.

~vVv~

"Daddy says she looks like a peacock," Thomas stated flatly at breakfast the next morning.

Deanna grimaced and cast Will a disparaging glare.

He shook his head, raising his hands up in mock surrender. "That's not exactly what I said," he defended himself, looking first to his wife and then to his son. "I said she dresses somewhat like a peacock – feathers and bright colors." Deanna's expression remained unchanged. "Well, she does – admit it."

And the hard gaze softened, and Deanna managed a small smile. "She does like bright colors… and feathers."

"Will we like her?" Thomas queried; he'd never known anyone who wore feathers.

"We'll like her," Sam answered firmly from the end of the table where he'd been sitting quietly, munching on a piece of toast.

Will glanced at his oldest son; he'd answered with such conviction.

Sam just shrugged. "She's our grandmother." And that was all the explanation that was required.

Will smiled; he was actually looking forward to seeing Lwaxana Troi again – something he'd never thought possible. But more than that, he was looking forward to seeing Lwaxana Troi with her grandchildren.

~vVv~

Sam stood between Uncle Jean-Luc and his father, Thomas on the other side next to Mama. Will was holding Matilda, and Lucy was cradled in Deanna's arms. They waited and watched while the transporter chief adjusted the controls.

The air above the transporter pad sparkled and shimmered and then twisted into the shape of a woman – tall, imposing, dressed in bright turquoise and green, sequins and feathers adorning the sleeves of her dress, trailing over her shoulders and down her arms.

"Welcome aboard, Ambassador Troi," Jean-Luc greeted her formally.

But Lwaxana Troi was anything but formal.

"Oh, Little One," she cried as she stepped down from the pad and swooped in on her daughter, wrapping her arms around her and holding her tight.

_Like a mother peacock_, Will thought with a broad grin spreading across his face.

"And this little one," Lwaxana exclaimed, touching her hand to Lucy's cheek. Tears were already coursing down her cheeks – tears that matched the ones on Deanna's face.

With one arm holding Lucy, Deanna pulled her mother close with the other one. "Mother, I've missed you so much."

"Such beautiful children… And I wasn't there…" Lwaxana sighed.

Deanna shook her head. "You're here now." She pulled away from her mother's embrace, and Lwaxana turned toward Will, pressed a hand to his bearded cheek.

"Thank you for taking care of them." She ran her other hand along Matilda's back. "I'm your Grandmother Lwaxana," she crooned softly, and Matilda smiled at the brightly dressed woman.

"This is Sam and Thomas," Will introduced the boys, and Lwaxana kissed them both on the forehead, then hugged them to her.

"Oh, we are going to have so much fun together," she promised.

And Will rolled his eyes, remembering the time she'd visited with Alexander. He wasn't sure if they could handle that much fun.

Finally, Lwaxana let the boys go and turned her attention to the captain. "Jean-Luc, congratulations to you and Beverly. I can't wait to meet your family as well. All of you have so much to tell me. I want to hear about all ten years. It's absolutely amazing what you've experienced. I can't believe what you've gone through. And now to be back-"

"Mother," Deanna reached out and took her by the arm, "we've arranged a big dinner for tonight. We'll have plenty of time to share stories. Let's get you settled, shall we?" And she led her out the transporter room door.

Will glanced over at Jean-Luc, the grin on his face spreading wider. "We may have been gone for ten years, but it's nice to see that some things never change."

Jean-Luc chuckled. "Believe it or not, I'm actually relieved that they haven't."

~vVv~

It was like Thanksgiving, Sam decided, as he looked down the long table filled with family and friends. Only there were a lot more people. His parents, and brother, and sisters; his grandmother, uncle, aunt, and cousins; and several members of the crew - all gathered in Ten Forward for dinner. Mama, Aunt Beverly, and Guinan had prepared all of their favorites: fried chicken, corn, black-eyed peas, beans, okra, squash, sweet potatoes, cabbage. But there were other foods as well: salmon, which he knew his father really liked, something called gagh, which looked like crawling worms, kaseton bread and kimden rolls, that were from Betazed, and Denevan baked pears and Dovlerian soufflé, which were favorites of his mother's. They were all learning to eat new foods, but Sam didn't think he could eat gagh. He was amazed that his father and Mister Worf not only ate it, but actually seemed to enjoy it. He thought he'd stick with his mother's choices; the pears and soufflé tasted good, and they didn't move.

He'd found a seat at the far end of the table, away from Grandmother Lwaxana. Not that he didn't like her. In fact, he liked her a lot. She was funny and told wonderful stories, but he didn't think his right cheek could handle one more pinch as she leaned over to kiss the left one. And he was getting tired of scrubbing lipstick off his face. Mama had never worn lipstick on the mountain. He knew what it was; he'd seen women who wore make-up visit the mission house in Cutter Gap before, but Mama and Aunt Beverly had never worn it. Mama always said they had other things to spend their money on, and then Dad would say that she didn't need make-up to make her beautiful. But now that they were on the _Enterprise_, Sam noticed that Mama would sometimes put color on her cheeks and brush something across her eyes. Not too much, but a little. She still looked like Mama, and Aunt Beverly still looked the same, although she had started wearing make-up as well. It didn't bother Sam; it was just another thing to get used to, like the blue uniforms that they wore that matched Dad and Uncle Jean-Luc's dark red ones.

He glanced down at his own clothing, and then let his eyes quickly sweep around the table to his brother and cousins. Their clothing was different now, too. When they'd gone to the holodeck the other day, they'd worn their old clothes, but most days they wore their new ones: stretchy outfits that fit snugly, unlike the loose-fitting overalls that they'd worn on the mountain. And soft boots that came up to their ankles. Sam missed going barefoot.

He shifted his eyes to the plate in front of him. It was piled high with food, but he hadn't started eating yet. No one had. They were all waiting for the blessing, and he looked toward his left where Dad sat, and then back down the table where Uncle Jean-Luc was sitting at the opposite end. He watched as his uncle picked up his knife and touched the side of his wine glass, a gentle tapping to get everyone's attention. The hum of separate conversations stilled and grew silent.

Uncle Jean-Luc stood, his eyes traveling around the assembled friends and family, a proud, satisfied smile lifting the corners of his lips. And then he looked down, his eyes closing for a moment. Sam saw Aunt Beverly reach out and touch her hand to his arm, her own eyes blinking. And for a second he thought she might be crying. He looked back at Dad, saw that he'd reached over and taken Mama's hand in his own. He gave Sam a reassuring smile, and nodded back toward his uncle. Sam looked back, and Uncle Jean-Luc looked up. And then he spoke.

"Although it may not match the date on the calendar, this is a day of thanksgiving, a day that I never imagined, but a day that we will always remember and cherish." He looked down at Beverly, reaching out and taking her hand in his. "I remember so many other days of thanksgiving over the past ten years." He smiled down at Will and Deanna. "That first year when there were only the four of us. We'd just completed building our homes, and we had so much to be grateful for – we were alive, we were… relatively healthy, and we had each other." His gaze shifted to Sam. "And then the next year, there were five of us." His eyes continued on to each child. "And then six, and seven, and eight, and nine, and ten." He sighed. "And now eleven and so many more. We lost a family, and made a new one, and now we've found and joined our families into one. Each and every person sitting here today is a member of that family – and we think of those who are not here, but are members as well. We are all truly blessed, and I am thankful to share this meal… this life… with the people that I love." He lifted his wine glass. "To our family."

"To family." The words rippled around the table. And Sam smiled.

~vVv~


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note:** Thanks for all the great reviews!

"Mother, no! We are not going to have a traditional Betazed wedding." She shot a glance across the table at Beverly, seeking support.

"I think Deanna's right. It might be too much for the children," Beverly agreed, looking over at Margaret who was listening intently to every word, her ice cream sundae almost completely forgotten. She really had no idea what they were talking about since no one had actually described a Betazed wedding to her, but she seemed to be fascinated by the women's disagreement.

"Nonsense!" Lwaxana exclaimed. "The human body in its natural state is honest and pure. One should enter into marriage in all honesty and purity." She gazed at her daughter. "You were always a little prudish about such matters, Little One."

Deanna rolled her eyes. "Believe me, Mother, Will and I have had four children in nine years. I don't think either one of us is a bit prudish!"

Lwaxana sighed. "Well, as the one officiating, I suppose I shall have to bear the brunt of tradition."

"You most certainly won't," Deanna said firmly. "You will remain clothed throughout the ceremony."

Margaret's eyes grew wide at her aunt's words. "You mean in a Betazed wedding people don't wear any clothes?" she questioned.

"It's a tradition," Lwaxana stated with an annoyed humph.

The expression on Deanna's face softened. "I know, Mother. But I'm the only Betazoid getting married. And I'm only half Betazoid, and, in some ways, it isn't an official marriage. Will and I have been committed to each other for years, as have Beverly and Jean-Luc. This is more like a… renewal of vows that were made long ago."

Lwaxana sighed again. "Even in a renewal ceremony, there are certain traditions that should be followed…"

And Deanna rolled her eyes again. "Mother, we are not going to have Will and Jean-Luc climb a mountain and bring back the hind feathers of a queelabird."

Her mother's mouth turned down in a "still-all-too-familiar-even-after-ten-years" pout. "We could recreate the conditions on the holodeck. It really wouldn't be that difficult. And even though Will and Jean-Luc are somewhat older now, I'm sure they could still-"

"No, Mother, we're wearing clothes and there will be no climbing for feathers!"

"What's a queelabird?" Margaret asked, looking over at Lwaxana.

The older woman managed a smile even as she sent a cutting glance toward her daughter. "See, there are some people who are interested in tradition."

Deanna wanted to say that Margaret was simply interested in birds, but she held her tongue as her mother started to describe the large, colorful birds that nested in the tallest mountains of Betazed. They were beautiful creatures, and Lwaxana could give wonderfully vivid descriptions. Soon, both Margaret and Deanna were drawn into her explanation which quickly evolved into a rather detailed story of the last renewal ceremony she had attended.

Beverly listened at first, but after a few minutes she let her gaze and her mind wander. Staring out the viewport at the stars, her thoughts went back ten years to another star-filled vista…

"_They're especially beautiful tonight," she murmured, as she leaned her head back and stared up through the trees at the stars high above them._

_Beside her, Jean-Luc followed her gaze. "Yes, but they're…still…too far away."_

_They'd been there for almost six weeks, and, although his speech was still slow at times, he was getting better. Beverly was relieved. The first few weeks she'd been afraid that he wouldn't survive. Now, he was doing all he could trying to keep up with Will, trying to make their small campsite a home. They'd dismantled the shuttle, using what pieces they could to erect a hut, all the while doing their best to camouflage the wreckage in case someone ever happened upon their camp. Some parts of the craft they'd burned, while others had been buried or submerged in the small mountain lake that they'd found a half mile away. They'd salvaged all that they could, but they all knew that it was only a matter of time before their instruments would begin to fail – tricorders and communicators wouldn't last forever without replenished energy sources. And Beverly was beginning to feel that "forever" was a distinct possibility. They all were._

"_We'll need jobs," Will announced from the other side of the campfire._

_And Beverly and Jean-Luc looked over at him, their peaceful contemplation of the stars interrupted by his flat statement._

_Will shrugged. "We'll need to find a way to fit into the community if Starfleet never finds us."_

_It was something they'd already discussed, something that had filled most of their evenings as they sat around the fire at night – something that they'd yet to make any definitive steps toward doing._

_Jean-Luc sighed. "Will's right. We have to…stop talking about it, and…do something."_

"_What?" Deanna spoke up from where she sat, leaning against Will's broad shoulder._

"_Well," Will responded, "I was in town yesterday, and I noticed that the livery stable was looking for some extra help."_

_It may have taken Will a couple of days to find El Pano on his first trip away from their camp, but now that they knew its location, it was only a few hours trek through the woods. They'd also discovered another community closer by called Cutter Gap. Will had visited both places several times in the past month, but no one else had ventured into the towns with him._

_Deanna arched her eyebrows. "You? Working with horses?"_

"_We had horses in Alaska," he defended himself. "I know my way around one. Besides, I'm sure I could figure out how to muck out a barn."_

"_And shoe a horse?" Deanna persisted._

_Jean-Luc came to his defense. "Will's right. We need to…all find…some sort of work."_

_Beverly immediately shot a concerned glance in his direction. "Jean-Luc…"_

_He sighed. "Beverly, stop playing…doctor."_

_And she couldn't help but laugh. He'd suffered with his injuries as well as her smothering attention for weeks now - always beside him, helping him, holding him through pain and nightmares - and a part of him was ready to be free of both. She knew she had to give him more space, but the injuries, unfortunately, had left some permanent damage. And the idea of him working concerned her. With a little imagination, she could envision Will Riker mucking out a horse stall, but what work would Jean-Luc be able to do? Or, for that matter, what jobs would she and Deanna be able to find? She knew that counselors were virtually unheard of during this time period, and female doctors were just as scarce. Besides, it wasn't like she could march into El Pano or Cutter Gap, hang up a shingle, and start seeing patients._

"_Even if we can't all…find jobs," Jean-Luc continued, "we're all…going to need to…go into town at some point." He reached over and picked up Beverly's hand. "Be part of this…world."_

"_The captain's right," Deanna said. "Isolating ourselves in camp isn't the answer. If we're never found, then we have to make a new beginning – here, on this mountain, with these people. So, it's time we all met them."_

_They were silent for several minutes, considering her words, imagining the possible ramifications of their actions. In some ways, it was a first contact with a pre-warp society. And with time travel involved, there was always the possibility of polluting the time stream – doing something that could alter the future outcome of what was effectively their past. And yet, thankfully, they were fairly isolated on the mountain – the towns were small, the population of both combined only a few hundred people. So the chances of changing the future – and their past – were slim._

"_But who are we?" Beverly questioned finally, breaking the silence. "It's one thing for Will to go into town." She looked over at him. He'd let his beard grow longer, and he was beginning to look more like a "mountain man" than a starship's first officer. "But if all of us show up… In this time period, men and women rarely roamed around in a group without being related or…married."_

_She said the last word quietly, hesitantly, unsure of the possible reactions. But she felt Jean-Luc squeeze her hand, and she turned her gaze toward him. She could see the light from the fire reflected in the hazel green depths of his eyes – but there was something else, something more, something she'd seen not too long ago sitting beside another fire, on another planet, light years away. On Kesprytt…_

_And she'd seen it, and felt it. They both had. And when they had returned to the ship, it was still there. She could hear his words: "_Now that we know how each of us feels, perhaps we should not be afraid to explore those feelings." _And she'd kissed him on the cheek and replied: _"Or perhaps we should be afraid." _And then she'd walked away. And they'd gone back to being friends – keeping the possibility of something more safely tucked away in minds they could no longer read and thoughts they could no longer hear._

_But now, in this other world, she saw in his eyes that same light, that same longing, and she wasn't afraid anymore._

_Leaning over, she pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, and whispered in his ear, an answer to the unspoken question that she'd seen in his eyes. "Yes, I'll marry you, Jean-Luc." And as he took her in his arms, she blushingly looked across the fire to see Will pull Deanna close to him, lowering his lips to hers. And then Jean-Luc did the same, and she felt like they were a bunch of college kids on a weekend camping trip, and she started to giggle…_

"What's so funny?"

Deanna's voice pulled her back to the present, and she blinked, realizing that she must have been laughing. "Nothing." She sighed and smiled. "Everything."

"We were talking about dresses, Mama," Margaret said, bouncing in the chair across from her. "I'm going to wear pink, and Grandmother Lwaxana is going to wear…char…chartreuse, with orange feathers."

And Beverly's smile broadened. There was that peacock image again. She glanced over at Deanna. "And what about you?"

Deanna sighed. "I'm not sure. I was thinking of a pale violet, almost silver. You remember - the color of the sky at twilight, after the sun was gone, by the river…"

And Beverly did remember – the sky, the twilight, the river…

_The decision had been made, but weeks passed before it was consummated. _

_Late one afternoon, as the sun was setting behind the trees, she and Jean-Luc had taken a long walk down by the river, and she'd fretted all the way, worried that he was pushing himself too far, watching as he seemed to lean more heavily on his cane with every step._

"_I'm all right, Beverly," he insisted, gripping her hand in his._

"_We should sit down and rest," she suggested._

"_And we will, as soon…as we get to the water's edge. That was the p-plan." He glanced at the blanket she had draped over her other arm and the basket she held in her hand.. "To sit…and watch the sun…set over the river – an evening picnic."_

_And so she was quiet, and they walked on slowly, each of them lost in thought. Until they arrived, and she did spread the blanket over the grass, and was relieved to help him sink down onto it. She sat beside him, felt his arm wrap around her shoulder. She leaned into him._

"_It's beautiful here," she breathed._

_He gazed at her, lifting his hand to a wayward strand of hair, pushing it back behind her shoulder. "You're…beautiful here." And he kissed her, softly, and then not as softly, the pressure on her lips insistent._

"_Jean-Luc…our picnic…"_

"_Not hungry…for food…"_

_And she pressed back._

"_I love you," he whispered, his voice husky with desire._

_And she replied, with equal desire and no hesitation. "I love you."_

_And they made love – there on the banks of that small river while the setting sun cast light and shadows across their skin – touches of yellow, then silver, then pink, then grey, then gold…_

"And what color dress were you thinking?" Deanna's voice pulled her back again.

And again Beverly blinked, and sighed, and smiled. "Gold…definitely gold…"

~vVv~


	19. Chapter 19

She knew he was watching her – could almost feel the heat of his gaze, could definitely feel the concentration of his thoughts and emotions as she lay, still half asleep, in the early morning stillness of their bedroom. And then, when he ran his hand along her arm and down across her bare hip, she felt his desire and she opened her eyes, found his blue eyes staring back at her from where he lay beside her, on his side, left arm bent, head resting on his hand.

She sighed. "What are you doing?"

"Appreciating the view…" he grinned, "in all its honesty and purity."

And Deanna smiled at his words, reaching over to run her fingers over his bare chest. At least they were starting their wedding day in a traditional manner. "My mother would be so proud of us."

And Will's grin faded a bit. "Let's not talk about mothers right now," he whispered, leaning closer and touching his lips to hers.

Deanna eagerly responded, wrapping her arms around him and drawing him closer, feeling the familiar weight of him roll on to her. Will braced himself on his elbows, the kiss deepening for several long moments. Then he lowered his face to her neck, nuzzling gently against the soft skin. Deanna pressed her hands to his shoulders, holding him and remembering that first time, all those years ago on the mountain. And she giggled.

Will drew back. "Am I tickling you?" he grinned, liking the idea of it.

"No." Deanna reached up and traced her fingers along his face, over his cheek to the bearded point of his chin. "I was just thinking about our first time on the mountain."

And Will's grin broadened. "You were worried that Beverly and Jean-Luc would come back."

"And find us making love in the middle of camp! Of course, I was worried."

Will ran his hand through her hair, pushing back the soft strands from her face. "You were so beautiful – the firelight reflecting on your body. And the night… The night was almost as beautiful as you were."

Deanna sighed. "It was beautiful." She remembered holding Will in her arms and staring up over his shoulder at the stars that filled the dark sky. "But still… they could have come back at any moment."

"We've had this conversation before… They weren't coming back right away. They took a picnic dinner to the river, remember?"

And Deanna smiled. She remembered. She knew. But still, after all these years, she liked to tease him, liked to think that their first time had been daring and dangerous – the added fear and thrill of being discovered. When in reality, she felt sure that it had all been planned – not that Will or Jean-Luc had ever admitted to it. But that evening had, in some ways, been their wedding night.

From then on, they'd had their separate sides of their makeshift hut, each couple giving the other as much privacy as possible. She felt married to Will Riker, and she knew Beverly felt the same about Jean-Luc.

And today, they were going to make if official, in the eyes of Starfleet and their friends and family.

Will kissed her gently and brought her thoughts back to their present reality – a reality they passionately enjoyed for the next thirty minutes before the sounds of children drew them out of their bedroom.

But during that half hour, the firelight glowed on Deanna's skin, and the stars shone brightly over Will's shoulder.

~vVv~

The children had been fed, bathed, and dressed, and now they were lined up on the couch, waiting somewhat impatiently.

"Stop pulling at that shirt," Beverly warned, glancing over at Andrew.

"But it's too tight," he complained, still tugging at the collar of the cream-colored tunic.

"It is not," Beverly sighed. "Stand still," she instructed Jean-Luc who stood in front of her while she fastened the top clasp of his dress uniform.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and she held his chin still with one hand and smoothed out a wrinkle on his right shoulder with the other.

"You look very handsome," she smiled, giving him a light kiss on the lips

And the children giggled.

"Grandmother Lwaxana says you're not supposed to see each other before the wedding," Margaret said, shaking her head.

Beverly rolled her eyes at the idea. "Grandmother Lwaxana doesn't have three children and a husband who hasn't worn a dress uniform in over ten years."

"Besides," Jean-Luc grinned, walking over and sitting down next to the children, allowing Walker to climb onto his lap, "I would never consent to marry someone whom I'd never seen."

Margaret laughed and leaned her head against her father's shoulder, careful not to crush the tiny flowers that were entwined with her braid. "I don't think that's what she means," she explained with all the wisdom of a seven-year-old. "Just on the day of the wedding – you're not supposed to see each other."

"Well, it's too late now," Beverly answered with another sigh. "We've seen each other before breakfast, during breakfast, and after breakfast." She placed her hands on her hips and surveyed the room, looking to see if there was anything that she'd forgotten to do.

And Jean-Luc leaned back on the couch with a sigh of his own. "You can sit down now," he announced, gazing adoringly at his wife. She was beautiful in her gold taffeta dress, her hair pulled up softly, framing her face – breathtaking, if not a bit frazzled.

Beverly blinked at him. "What?"

"We're all dressed and accounted for and the ceremony doesn't start for another half hour. It will take us approximately five minutes to walk to Ten Forward, so I think you're safe to relax for twenty-five minutes."

She smiled at him, walked over, and sank onto the couch beside him. "I've been a little frantic, haven't I?"

Jean-Luc picked up her hand and squeezed it. "Just a bit. But you needn't worry. Everything will be perfect."

"Do we really have to sit here for twenty-five minutes?" Andrew questioned, still pulling at the neckline of his tunic.

"Yes," his parents chorused, and then laughed.

~vVv~

They were as ready as they'd ever be, Will decided transferring Lucy into Guinan's arms. They'd considered leaving her in the ship's nursery, but Deanna insisted that all the family should be present. And so Guinan had volunteered to hold her during the ceremony. They were gathered around the bar in Ten Forward, the children beside them. Sam and Thomas were showing Matilda how to drop flower petals from the basket she held.

Across the room, Lwaxana was directing last minute changes, checking with Data about the music, and talking to Geordi about the lighting.

Will leaned in close to Deanna and whispered in her ear. "You always were beautiful with one hip on a barstool."

And Deanna swatted at him playfully just as the doors to Ten Forward slid open and the Picard family entered.

Will glanced over at Jean-Luc and wondered if he were as uncomfortable in his dress uniform as Will was in his. It had been a long time since he'd worn something so formal. He noticed Andrew pulling at the collar of his tunic, and, like a yawn, it was catching. Will reached up and tugged at his uniform collar, only to receive a grimace from Beverly.

"Not you, too," she chided.

And Will grinned, pointing at his nephew. "He started it."

"And I'm going to finish it," Beverly promised with a lifted eyebrow and a stern look in Andrew's direction. "The next time I see either of you pulling on your clothing I'll take away dessert for three days."

Both Will and Andrew quickly pulled their hands behind their backs, exchanged worried expressions, and then burst into laughter.

"Mama, you can't take Uncle Will's dessert away," Andrew giggled.

"But I can," Deanna said with a serious look on her face.

And Will nodded. "She will, too."

Sam looked up from the floor where he was picking up flower petals. "Andrew, does Walker know how to carry the rings?"

Forgetting the offending collar, Andrew knelt down next to Sam and Thomas. "He's been practicin' in our cabin."

Margaret and Walker joined them. She held a little maroon pillow with a pocket sewn onto it. "The rings are in here," she said confidently, proud that her mother had entrusted her with carrying the precious cargo.

"I do it like this," Walker announced, taking the pillow from his sister. He balanced it between both hands, took a few steps across the room, and then turned back. "See, I don't drop it."

While the children were busy practicing and discussing their roles in the wedding ceremony, the adults were scanning the room, watching as the guests began arriving. Jean-Luc was waiting for one guest in particular.

Beverly reached out a hand and touched his arm. "You've already spoken to him. You said he seemed fine."

Jean-Luc nodded. "He did. Congratulated us both. Said he was looking forward to attending, but… still…"

Beverly's hand ran down his arm, took his hand in hers, squeezed it gently. "It'll be all right. It's been several years since…"

Jean-Luc drew his eyes away from the center of the room, looked back at Beverly, seeking shelter in her gaze, his mind finishing her unspoken thoughts… _Several years since Locutus killed Benjamin Sisko's wife._

Of course, those weren't the exact words that Beverly was thinking, but it was what Jean-Luc couldn't help but think. He remembered the last time he'd met with Sisko, the barely bridled anger the man felt toward him. They'd parted on better terms, but still… Locutus had been directly responsible for the death of Jennifer Sisko. And Jean-Luc Picard still felt the weight of that squarely on his shoulders. Even after all these years.

He felt Beverly squeeze his hand again, and he pushed the memories back into a far corner of his mind. Today was not a day for regret. He took a deep breath and returned the hand squeeze. She was right. Everything would be fine. He had spoken to Sisko when they'd first arrived at the station. The man had greeted him cordially, asked about their extended stay on Earth, had truly seemed interested in their unique experience. He had congratulated them on the upcoming ceremony, and had graciously accepted the invitation to attend. Perhaps there had been a bit of tension between them, but not like before. Maybe time didn't heal all wounds, but time did help… time and the support of friends and family. He knew that Ben Sisko had a fine group of people working with him on the station, had his son, had close friends…

Three of whom came walking through the door right at that moment.

"Miles, Keiko," Beverly called, motioning toward them.

They came over with Molly between them, and they all exchanged hugs, made introductions.

"It's absolutely unbelievable, Beverly," Keiko shook her head as she watched Molly join in with the children as they sprinkled flower petals on the floor and then scooped them up, only to drop them all again.

"I know," Beverly smiled. "Molly and Walker are both the same age. But in our timeframe I feel like Molly should be fourteen instead of four. I think we'd all given up on the idea of returning, and then to come back with only two weeks having passed… Well, it's all a bit… surrealistic..."

"Well, we're all very glad that you returned!"

The voice came from over her shoulder, and Beverly turned to find Julian Bashir standing behind her.

"Julian!" she exclaimed, giving the younger man a welcoming hug. "I'm so glad you could be here. How long has it been?"

"For me or for you?" he grinned.

And Beverly laughed. "Well, it's been a long time for me, and not as long for you, but too long all the same."

"Doctor Bashir," Jean-Luc greeted, shaking the man's hand. "So glad you could be here."

"I'm very pleased to be here, Captain."

Jean-Luc's gaze reached past his shoulder. "Commander Sisko…"

"Should be here shortly. It's sometimes difficult to pry him away from the station." He exchanged a meaningful glance with the captain, knew the history, the lingering doubts, and he tried to allay those concerns. "He's been looking forward to being here," he said sincerely. "He's very happy for both of you."

Jean-Luc nodded, acknowledging the man's words, thanking him with a gentle smile and then the release of a long-held breath when he saw the doors slide open again and Benjamin Sisko stepping into the room.

He approached them with long, confident strides, holding his hand out. "Captain, Doctor, congratulations." He shook Jean-Luc's hand and then leaned over and kissed Beverly's cheek. Turning toward Will and Deanna, he repeated his greeting. "And to you Commander, Counselor." Another handshake, another kiss on the cheek.

"We're pleased that you could attend," Jean-Luc answered, his eyes saying even more than the simple words.

And they held each other's gaze for several long moments, something more passing between them…acceptance, healing…time.

"I'm glad to be here, Jean-Luc."

"Thank you… Ben."

~vVv~


	20. Chapter 20

The soft sounds of Pachelbel's Canon in D Major filled the room as the last guests crowded into Ten Forward, finding seats and exchanging muffled whispers. The chairs and tables had been arranged in order to create a central aisle ending at the raised area near the viewport where Lwaxana, Jean-Luc, Will, and the older boys were standing, framed against thousands of stars. They made quite a picture, Will thought as he scanned the people around him. Lwaxana, a proud peacock in chartreuse feathers, he and Jean-Luc in their dress uniforms, and the boys in cream-colored tunics with dark gray knee pants and high black boots – little miniature footmen he'd observed aloud when he'd seen them earlier in their cabin. That comment had earned him his first playful swat of the day, to which he'd replied, "I'm looking forward to more of those." And that had earned him his second. He smiled; Deanna Troi knew just how he liked to be handled.

The music shifted slightly, growing a bit louder, and he watched as Margaret and Matilda, in matching pink dresses, started down the aisle, the older girl holding the toddler's hand. With every step, Matilda dropped a fistful of flower petals, pausing for a moment to watch them drift onto the carpeted deck before moving forward and dropping another fistful. He could hear her gentle laughter and see her smile up at her cousin, enjoying the game.

Walker came behind them, head held high, pillow perfectly balanced on his hands in front of him. Another miniature footman, and Will grinned, casting his gaze toward Jean-Luc who smiled back at him, resting a hand on Andrew's shoulder as Will rested his on Sam and Thomas. They had a lot to be thankful for.

Leslie and Alyssa were next, followed closely by Deanna and Beverly who had chosen to walk down the aisle together. Will's grin broadened as he remembered Deanna's words from last week: _No one's giving_ _me away, Will. I gave myself to you a long time ago._ And Beverly had agreed. _Besides, no one can give any of us away. We already belong to each other. _And she'd leaned over the dinner table and kissed Jean-Luc rather possessively, much to his chagrin and the children's delight.

But she was right. They belonged together. Each to the other, and one family to the next. And as they drew closer, Will felt the connection and saw the love in their eyes, Deanna's gaze locking onto his, and Beverly's seeking out Jean-Luc. He reached over and took Deanna's hand in his, as Jean-Luc reached for Beverly.

They turned to face Lwaxana, who gazed at them with a glistening of tears in her brown eyes. And he could almost hear Deanna's thoughts: _Don't cry, Mother._

And to her credit, she didn't. Lwaxana Troi smiled at them, and, with a deep breath, she turned her gaze to the assembled crowd and began to speak, loud and strong.

"As Daughter of the Fifth House, Holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, and Heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed, it is my honor to be here today with Beverly and Jean-Luc, and Deanna and Will, to join them again in the holy bonds of matrimony." She blinked, and her voice softened. "But as mother, grandmother, and friend, it is my pleasure and joy." And the tears in her eyes spilled over onto her cheeks. "I am so happy for all of you, so grateful to have you here with us, and so pleased to bless this union that has already been so fully blessed." She smiled down at the children, and then back up to the guests, her fingers brushing at her cheeks. "As many of you know, I could go on and on, but our brides and grooms would like to share their own vows at this time."

Deanna turned to Will, taking his hands in hers, and began. "Will Riker, there are days when I know that I have loved you forever, and other days when I am sure that our love is as new as it was the first time I felt it. There are moments when I can't imagine a life without you, and others when I can't believe that you are here with me. And all those years that we have shared, and the time and worlds within them, are so very precious, and I want to share them with you and our children for always." She squeezed his hands. "I love you, Will."

Will looked down at Deanna's upturned face, saw his entire life within her dark eyes. "I love you, and I have always loved you. You and our children are my world, and all the time in between. I have always known that you would be my companion and my guide on the greatest adventure…our lives. I must admit that I never quite knew just how great and far-reaching that adventure would be, but I can't imagine anyone else beside me." He reached up and brushed a strand of hair back from her face. "I love you, Deanna. You are my heart, and my soul, and my life."

Beverly held Jean-Luc's hands and gazed up into the familiar warmth of his hazel eyes. "You have always been here for me, through so many years, so many… memories. You have been my captain, my confidant, my best friend… the father of our children… the man that I love. I can't imagine what my life would be like without you. To live every day, every moment, with you and our children is the greatest gift that I have ever been given." She traced her hand over his cheek, touched her fingers to the hairline at the back of his neck. "I love you, Jean-Luc Picard. I always have, and I always will."

Jean-Luc held his breath and Beverly's gaze for several long moments before he spoke. "I am at a disadvantage being the last to speak. Every thought… every emotion… has already been shared so perfectly and eloquently that whatever I have to add may be superfluous. But I shall try to say what is in my soul. I know that if this were years ago, I would not know where or how to begin. For a man who has spent his entire life meeting new species and negotiating peace treaties, I have often found myself at a loss for words when it came to matters of the heart. But time… precious time has passed, and in that time I have been given so much… the ability to love, and be loved. To let someone into my life and truly share each and every moment… To stand on a mountainside and watch the sun rise and set with you and our children… To be here, now, surrounded by family and friends… Precious time, precious moments… A precious life that I cannot imagine without you…" He sighed and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Beverly Howard Crusher, you are, and always shall be, the love of my life. I love you."

There was silence… a collective hold of a collective breath, and then Lwaxana's voice, laced with tears and reverence.

"By the powers given to me as Daughter of the Fifth House, Holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, and Heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed, I pronounce you husbands and wives." She blinked at Jean-Luc and Will. "And as your friend and mother-in-law, I give you permission to kiss your brides."

And since they knew better than to argue with Lwaxana Troi, they both followed her instructions, leaning toward their wives and kissing them as the music swelled and the room erupted in applause.

~vVv~

Afterwards, they danced with their wives, and then danced with each other's wives, and then danced with their children. And finally they stopped to have something to eat and drink and talk with friends and family.

"One of the best weddings I've been to in ages," Miles O'Brien claimed, taking a generous bite of wedding cake.

Keiko reached over and wiped a smudge of icing off his lower lip. "You say that after every wedding," she laughed, leaning over and giving him a quick kiss.

"I remember your wedding," Deanna smiled. "And I think Miles said the same thing."

Miles shook his head. "Oh, no, I couldn't have said that about my own wedding. I was as nervous as a cat in a rocking chair factory that day."

"He's right," Keiko grinned. "Don't you remember? He could barely talk. I was afraid he wouldn't be able to say 'I do.'"

"If I recall, he managed," Jean-Luc spoke up, having had the pleasure of officiating at their wedding.

Keiko looked across the room where Molly was playing with Margaret and Matilda. "And to think, we almost didn't have a wedding."

"Oh, we had no doubt that you would go through with it," Will said.

"With all that fussing and fighting, I guess we were already an old married couple!" Miles laughed, wrapping one arm around Keiko and pulling her close. "I'm just glad she didn't give up on me."

Keiko's gaze shifted to the stringed quartet where Data was playing his violin. "I'm afraid we put Data through a terrible ordeal during those few days."

Jean-Luc nodded. "He learned quite a lot about human nature and the desire to spend one's life with someone." He gazed across at Beverly, who returned his gaze and then smiled.

"He also learned to dance!"

"And he didn't step on my toes once!" Keiko laughed.

"Well, then, he's doing better than Will," Deanna teased, patting her husband on the shoulder.

Will rolled his eyes. "One misstep and I'll never hear the end of it," he groaned playfully.

Just then, Ben Sisko and Julian Bashir walked over. "It was a lovely ceremony," Sisko offered, smiling at the group of people. But Jean-Luc detected a somber note in his voice.

"Is everything all right?" he questioned.

"I'm afraid we've just received some serious news. A Bolian freighter has just docked at the station. They've experienced a severe engine room explosion – at least twelve casualties. We'll have to be going."

Beverly glanced at Selar, and then over at Julian. "Could you use some extra hands?"

Julian shook his head. "It's your wedding day. We'll be fine."

She nodded at the Vulcan doctor. "And it will still be my wedding day later tonight. Give me and Selar a few minutes, and we'll transport over to your sickbay."

"Beverly…"

"Take my word for it, Doctor," Jean-Luc sighed. "There's no use arguing with her once her mind is made up." He leaned over and kissed his wife.

"I'm sorry." She ran her hand along his cheek, even as she turned to leave. "You'll save me a piece of cake?"

"And a glass of champagne," he promised.

~vVv~

The children were already in bed and asleep when Beverly returned to their cabin late that night. Or early the next morning, depending on how you looked at it, for it was almost 0100. Jean-Luc was in bed as well, but still awake. And he'd left an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne and two glasses on the bedside table. But he could tell that celebrating their wedding day was the furthest thing from Beverly's mind when she walked through the door.

She'd changed out of her dress and was wearing a loose fitting, faded red sickbay scrub suit. Her hair, which had been pulled up softly on the back of her head for the wedding, had fallen in loose strands around her face. She was exhausted. He could tell. Without even a word of greeting, she collapsed on the side of the bed.

Jean-Luc rose to his knees and knelt behind her, his hands expertly beginning to massage the tight muscles in her shoulders. She exhaled a heavy sigh and leaned against him, her back warm on his thighs. Overly warm, he realized, allowing a hand to slip up to her cheeks.

"Beverly, you've got a fever."

She shook her head, her hand pushing his away from her face. "No, I don't."

"Yes, you do. Let me get your tricorder." He moved to get off the bed, for she kept her emergency medical kit in the bathroom.

Her hand caught his arm, stopping him. "Jean-Luc, there's no need to get the tricorder." She smiled wanly, and he realized how flushed her cheeks were. "I'm just a little feverish. I'm overtired. You know how I get."

And it was true. She'd been known to run a slight fever whenever she was exhausted. The excitement of the day and the crisis in DS9's sickbay had taken their toll on her.

Jean-Luc smiled reassuringly. "Well, I'll bring your medical kit anyway. And a damp cloth. Why don't you get undressed and into bed. "

Beverly laughed softly, her gaze settling on the champagne. "I think getting me undressed and into bed was your main goal for tonight."

His smile faded into a sheepish grin. "Guilty as charged. But we can have our honeymoon tomorrow night." He gave her a gentle hug before getting off the bed and moving into the bathroom. He returned a minute later with her medical kit in one hand and a damp cloth in the other.

Beverly hadn't moved. She still sat, fully clothed, on the edge of the bed.

Without a word, Jean-Luc went to her, set the kit and cloth on the bed, and gently undressed her. He took the tricorder from the kit and checked her temperature. It was elevated, but only slightly, and he breathed a sigh of relief. She was tired and sleep would be the best thing for her. He helped her lay back on the bed and pulled a sheet up to her chest. Then he sat beside her, his hands running the damp cloth over her neck and face.

She smiled up at him. "I may have a place for you on my staff."

"Just as long as you have a place for me in your bed."

"Will you take a rain check?" she sighed.

"Always." He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Now, close your eyes and get some sleep. Captain's orders."

"Yes, sir," she murmured. Her eyes fell closed and within moments she was asleep.

~vVv~

The heat emanating from Beverly's body woke him several hours later. He could tell, even before he ran the tricorder over her, that her temperature had risen drastically. She was shivering beside him, despite the weight of the covers that he'd drawn over them. She held to him as if drawing warmth from his body, and even in her sleep, she seemed reluctant to let him go when he pulled away from her and got out of bed.

For a moment, he was indecisive about what to do next. His first impulse was to call sickbay and request an emergency team, but he realized that they would probably wake the children and frighten them. He could alert sickbay and have Beverly transported there directly from their quarters. That was the better option.

Locating Beverly's dressing gown at the foot of the bed, he leaned down, uncovered her, and managed to pull it on her, a part of his mind knowing that she'd never forgive him if he transported her to sickbay naked, regardless of her condition. At the same time, he glanced up at the ceiling and hailed the medical staff on duty.

"Sickbay," he said quietly, but loud enough to open the channel.

"Sickbay here."

He recognized Alyssa Ogawa's voice.

"Alyssa, this is Captain Picard. Beverly is ill. I'm having her transported to sickbay. I'll be joining her shortly."

"Yes, sir. We'll be ready," Ogawa replied efficiently.

"Transporter Room. Captain Picard here." He reached over, his hand fumbling on the bedside table, and picked up Beverly's communicator. He attached it to her dressing gown. "Lock on to Doctor Crusher's signal and transport her to sickbay."

"Aye, sir," came the reply.

A moment later, Beverly sparkled out of existence, leaving him alone in the dark room.

~vVv~


	21. Chapter 21

Jean-Luc forced his mind into a professional mode, despite the fear growing inside him. Dressed. First he needed to get dressed. And then he needed to get someone to watch the children while he went to sickbay. Although it was the middle of the night, he instinctively reached for his uniform, and, shedding his pajamas, he quickly pulled it on, then pushed his feet into his boots. As he was silently debating whom to call for the children, the door chime sounded.

"Come," he intoned striding into the lounge area as the door slid open.

Alyssa stood on the other side.

"Selar is with Beverly, but I thought you might need someone to stay with the children."

Jean-Luc gave her a grateful smile. "Thank you, Alyssa. I'm sure they're still sleeping, but if they should wake…"

"I'll explain carefully. Don't worry." She reached out and took his hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze. "You go be with her."

~vVv~

Five minutes later, he walked into sickbay to find it a flurry of motion: Selar and several other members of the medical staff surrounded the central biobed – so many of them that he couldn't even see Beverly. He stood, frozen, by the main entrance, and then blinked when he saw someone step out of Beverly's office, not registering who it was at first. Not until the voice and the touch on his arm…

"Jean-Luc…."

He looked to his left. Deanna.

"Alyssa contacted me."

He shook his head. "I didn't want to wake you and Will."

She gave him a soft half-smile. "Don't worry about us. We're fine. My mother is going to come stay at our place so Will can go to your cabin. That way Alyssa can come back here."

Another shake of his head, his mouth a grim line. "Deanna, no…"

She wrapped her hand more firmly around his arm. "That's what families do," she whispered, leaning closer and placing a gentle kiss on his cheek, then pulling him into the office. "Let's sit… I know Selar will come talk to us soon."

~vVv~

Soon was almost a half hour later, and both Selar and Julian Bashir, who had transported over from DS9, came to speak with them. Julian leaned against the side of the desk while Selar stood beside him.

"What's wrong with her?" Jean-Luc questioned, looking from one to the other.

Julian glanced up at Selar, and the Vulcan nodded – unspoken permission for him to proceed.

"Beverly's contracted Sythrellian Fever. It's a very rare illness, usually found within the Bolian population, although it can affect all species."

"The Bolian freighter?"

Julian nodded. "Apparently one of the crew is carrying the virus. I have my staff scanning for it now. A person can transmit the virus without showing any effects. And it's a very fast-acting illness – symptoms can appear within hours of exposure."

"Has anyone else been affected?"

He shook his head.

And Jean-Luc looked up at Selar then back to Julian. "Why only Beverly?"

"We don't know. Some individuals are more susceptible than others."

"And the cure?"

Julian hesitated, sharing another long look with Selar.

Jean-Luc looked up at the Vulcan again. "Doctor Selar?"

"There is no known cure at this time, Captain. The illness simply has to run its course."

"And then she'll recover?"

Selar was silent.

"Doctor?"

"Sythrellian Fever has a sixty-five percent recovery rate," Selar said quietly.

And there was silence for several long moments, the expression on Jean-Luc's face growing harder, his hands tightening into fists.

"Captain, we're doing everything we can for her, but…she's slipped into a coma, and…" Julian looked over at Deanna. "I'm afraid all we can do is wait."

~vVv~

Will had never known that Lwaxana Troi could enter a room quietly, but she came into their cabin almost imperceptibly less than ten minutes after Deanna had contacted her, waking her from a sound sleep.

Will was sitting on the couch, holding Lucy against his shoulder, one large hand patting her back. Deanna had been nursing her when Alyssa had contacted them about Beverly. And now, Will was lulling her back to sleep with the gentle tapping – a time-worn rhythm that had soothed all of their children in the middle of the night.

"You seem to have that perfected," Lwaxana said softly as she crossed the room and sat down beside him.

Will gave her a tired smile. "I've had a lot of practice."

Lwaxana reached over, and he carefully transferred the baby into her arms. Lucy yawned, but didn't open her eyes.

Will pushed himself to his feet and looked down at his mother-in-law. "Thank you for coming."

"Of course. Have you heard anything about Beverly?"

He shook his head, running a hand down over his beard. "Not yet. But I'll let you know when I do hear something." He glanced toward the bedrooms. "If the kids wake up…"

"I'll tell them not to worry." She held Lucy in one arm and reached a hand out to Will. He took it, and she squeezed his fingers. "Beverly will be fine."

And Will nodded. But neither of them could be sure.

~vVv~

He was sitting on the edge of the chair in front of Beverly's office desk – just where she'd left him fifteen minutes earlier. His eyes were closed, but he opened them as soon as she stepped through the door. His gaze asked the question his lips could not form.

Deanna shook her head. "She's still in a coma."

His shoulders dropped and his chin fell against his chest. Deanna went to him and knelt beside his chair. She wrapped her hands around his upper arms, but he pulled away, straightening, his face and eyes neutral, devoid of emotion. And she could feel the all too familiar mental barriers. Only this time, they were stronger than ever before – impenetrable, unyielding.

"Jean-Luc, don't... Don't cut yourself off from your feelings." She tried to brush her fingers over his cheek, but he pushed her hand away.

"I'm all right," he murmured, "but...thank you for your concern. I... I'd better go see about the children." He stood up, but then looked furtively around the small office, as if not sure what to do next.

Deanna stood also. "Do you want to see her?"

He glanced over at her. "No," he answered abruptly. "No... I... the children," he mumbled and turned toward the door.

He took a step, and then his hand went out and grasped the door frame, and he sagged against the glass wall, his shoulders shaking.

Deanna was at his side immediately, her arm wrapping around his back. "It's all right," she whispered. "It's all right."

Jean-Luc pressed his face to the wall, the tears trailing down his cheeks. He couldn't stop them, couldn't stop the shudders that ran through his body, couldn't stop the pain that engulfed him. _Beverly… _Her name echoed in his mind. _Beverly…_ He couldn't lose her. They couldn't lose her. Didn't she know? Couldn't she feel what he was feeling?

"I... I need her." His voice shook with the sobs.

"I know," Deanna soothed, drawing him away from the wall, allowing his head to fall to her shoulder. "I know. And she knows." She wanted to tell him that Beverly would come back to him, but the medical staff wasn't sure. Her condition was serious, precarious.

And no matter how much she wanted to, Deanna wouldn't give the man in her arms any false hopes. Nor would he believe them, even if she did. All she could give him was just this: a shoulder to cry on.

~vVv~

He allowed her to hold him until the tears passed and he gained control of his emotions. And as he pulled away from Deanna's arms, he pulled the mantle of captain firmly back into place.

"I need to check on the children," he murmured, turning toward the door.

Deanna touched her hand to his upper arm. "Will's with them. They'll be fine." She closed her fingers around him. "You need to see her, Jean-Luc."

He looked down at the floor, shook his head. "She won't know I'm there."

"But you'll know."

And Deanna led him down the short hall to the private room where they'd moved Beverly. At the door, Jean-Luc hesitated, peering into the half-darkness. He could hear her labored breathing, slow and ragged, caused by the buildup of fluid in her lungs. And he knew that her fever was still high. He felt Deanna's hand slide down his arm, her fingers wrapping around his, squeezing gently. And he let her pull him further into the room, let her draw him closer to the edge of the bed, the edge of the precipice…

For that is what he felt as he stood gazing down at the flushed, fevered face of the woman he loved… On the edge of a cliff, a dark chasm… And he couldn't fall. He was the captain; he had a ship to attend. But more than that… He was a father, and his children needed him… Especially if they lost her…

And he gripped Deanna's hand, hard, drawing strength from her, steadying his own uneven breathing. And with his other hand, he reached out, touched his fingers to Beverly's forehead, felt the heat of her skin, allowed his fingers to brush down gently over the limp red-gold strands of hair. Then he leaned over and pressed his lips to her cheek, whispered in her ear, "I love you."

~vVv~

"Uncle Will?"

The small voice came from the opposite side of the room, and Will looked up from the desk computer to find Andrew standing in the doorway. He sat back in his chair, motioning for him to come closer. Just like his own children, Andrew still wore a nightshirt for pajamas, and the ends billowed around his knees as he crossed the room. When he reached his uncle, Will pulled him up into his lap. At any other time, he felt sure that Andrew would have resisted – after all, he was eight, too old to be held – but in the middle of the night, Will knew better – never too old to be held – especially when you woke to find your parents missing and your uncle in their place.

"Where's Mama and Papa?" Andrew breathed softly, letting his head fall onto Will's broad shoulder.

And Will sighed. He'd been silently rehearsing what he would tell the children when they woke, but now all the words that had seemed proper and appropriate no longer seemed right – they just felt heavy and awkward as he began to explain.

"Remember your mother went to help the doctors on the space station?"

Andrew nodded. "She said there was an explosion on a ship. Lots of people were hurt."

"That's right. And Doctor Selar and your mother went to help." He hesitated. "But when she came back, she became sick, and she had to go to sickbay."

Andrew looked up, and Will could see the tears quickly forming in his eyes. "Sick? How?"

Will rubbed his hand soothingly over the boy's back, patting gently. "She has a high fever, but Doctor Selar and Doctor Bashir are doing everything they can to help her. And Papa's with her, and Aunt Deanna."

"Is she gonna be all right?"

And Will knew that he couldn't lie to him – he wanted to – wanted to tell him that everything would be just fine – wanted to believe that himself. But he couldn't. And he knew that Jean-Luc wouldn't want him to.

He pulled Andrew closer into his embrace. "We hope she'll be all right, Andrew. But we just have to wait."

~vVv~

"You need some rest," Deanna insisted as she walked with him through the corridors heading toward his cabin. Both of her hands were wrapped firmly around his right arm, and she leaned into him, her body flush against his side – both comfort and support.

And he didn't pull away. He allowed the contact – needed it, as he thought of the children and what he would say if they were awake.

"I can talk to them," Deanna said softly, knowing what he was thinking.

"She's never been this sick before." He sighed. "And they've never…even been without her, except for…" And his voice trailed off, remembering.

And Deanna remembered, too: the typhoid fever epidemic that had broken out in Cutter Gap two years ago. Thankfully, none of them had developed the illness, but Beverly had worked tirelessly alongside Neill MacNeill for almost a month to help treat the dozens who had. During those weeks, she was rarely home, spending most of her nights at the mission house or in the homes of patients who needed her.

"She was worried about being around the children – afraid that she could somehow expose them to the bacteria." He shook his head. "It was easier for her to stay in the village – closer to those who needed her…"

"That's just who she is," Deanna observed, clutching his arm tighter. "But she was strong then, and she's strong now." They reached the cabin door, hesitated before entering. "You have to believe that, Jean-Luc."

And he nodded at her words; he did believe. He'd always known how strong Beverly Crusher was – had seen that strength from the very beginning of their friendship, had seen it all too clearly when Jack died – and in all their years on the _Enterprise_ and then on the mountain, that strength had held fast and secure.

And now he had to hold to that belief.

Deanna reached out and activated the door, pulled him quietly into the familiar dimness of his quarters. As his eyes adjusted to the faint light, he saw Will sitting at his desk with Andrew asleep on his lap, the boy's head cradled against his chest.

"Margaret and Walker?" he whispered.

Will shook his head. "Never woke up. Just Andrew."

Jean-Luc went over and knelt beside them, placed his hand on his son's back. "Andrew?" He spoke softly, gently shaking him awake.

The boy's eyes half opened sleepily, then grew wider when he saw who it was. "Papa?" he breathed, reaching out and looping his arms around Jean-Luc's neck. "Where's Mama?"

"She's still in sickbay."

Andrew slid from Will's lap, and Jean-Luc pulled him closer, holding him securely in his arms as he stood, the boy's legs wrapping around his waist.

"Is she all right?" he sighed as his head fell onto his father's shoulder.

Jean-Luc patted his back as he headed toward his bedroom. "She's…resting for now. Why don't you come sleep with me for a while?" And he looked back at Deanna, as if asking the counselor's permission.

And she managed an encouraging smile. "That sounds like a good idea. You both get some rest." She crossed the room and joined him. "Will can stay here while I go back to sickbay, but first I'll help change the sheets on your bed since you have your hands full." She knew he wouldn't want Andrew sleeping on the same sheets that Beverly had slept on for fear of him catching her illness.

Jean-Luc started to protest, but she shook her head, her expression soft and determined all at the same time. He glanced toward Will, only to see the same look mirrored on his face. And he nodded in understanding and, following Deanna, carried Andrew into the bedroom.

He watched as she quickly stripped the bed of the rumpled sheets, then remade it with fresh linen from the recycler. He felt Andrew falling asleep in his arms, the gentle rise and fall of his breathing slowing against his chest, his son's breath warm on his skin where his face was burrowed against his neck.

He realized that he had not held Andrew like this in a long time. At eight, he was almost too big to be held, and on the mountain, Jean-Luc's weak left side had often prevented him from holding the older children for long periods of time. He could securely hold a small child with his right arm, but carrying Andrew or Margaret had been difficult as they'd grown bigger. With those thoughts, he tightened his arms around his son, holding him close.

When Deanna was done, he sat on the edge and laid Andrew down on Beverly's side of the bed, looked back up at the counselor.

"Do you need anything?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head, rubbing a large hand over his son's back as he answered. "We'll be fine."

And Deanna rubbed her hand along his shoulders, up over his cheek. "Rest, Jean-Luc. I'll let you know if there's any change." She pressed a kiss to his forehead, then turned and left.

Jean-Luc sighed, getting up from the bed and going around to his side. He pushed off his boots, but didn't remove his uniform. Carefully, he stretched out on top of the blankets, turning onto his side, smiling softly as Andrew shifted in his sleep and pushed against him, his head pillowed on his father's upper arm.

He gazed at his son for several long minutes, picking out the features that belonged to Beverly – the eyes and nose, the line of his chin – before finally closing his eyes and sleeping.

~vVv~


	22. Chapter 22

_She knew this place: the low hanging branches that fell over the shallow river, the banks that narrowed, the well-worn dirt path that disappeared beneath the water and then trailed out on the other side where it continued to rise into the mountains._

_She'd been here before._

_Many times._

_They all had._

_She looked to her right, saw the clearing where they would spread their picnic blanket, close to the water's edge where Will and Jean-Luc had taught the children to swim. And then to the left, further upstream, where Will would sit for hours, trying in vain to catch the ten-pound bass that he was sure lived under a rocky overhang. On the other side, heavily-laden blueberry bushes lined the path, and they had spent many long afternoons picking berries, the kids putting more in their mouths than in their buckets, fingers and faces purpling._

_It was the ford, a low place in the river where wagons and travelers could easily cross._

_But she'd never been here alone, and she was alone now._

_The forest around her seemed oddly silent. No sounds of squirrels scurrying in the trees, or birds calling to each other over the gentle rush of wind. _

_And even though the sun was shining in dappled green and gold patterns on the ground and water, and even though her memories of this place were warm, she suddenly felt very cold…and frightened._

_She looked behind her, down the winding path, wanting Jean-Luc._

_He wasn't there._

_She started to turn, go back down, head toward home._

_But a noise stopped her. _

_And then another._

_A steady pattern: footfalls on hard-packed earth, and a rustle of leaves, as if brushing against the shoulders of an approaching traveler._

_She shifted her gaze back uphill, across the river._

_She held her breath as a figure came around the bend and stopped just on the other side._

_And her heart leapt, tears filling her eyes._

Wesley.

_And then she was rushing toward him, but he didn't move. And when she reached the edge of the river, she stopped. The water was low here, barely reaching past her knees. It would have been simple for them to cross, but they didn't._

_Twenty-five meters stretched between them, and still she felt as if they were a world apart, a lifetime separating them._

_He spoke first._

"_It's all right, Mom. I'm coming."_

_She felt her chin tremble as warm tears spilled over onto her cheeks. She reached a hand out to him. "Cross now, Wes."_

_And he shook his head. "Not yet."_

_She saw his eyes focus on something behind her, and she glanced back. There was Jean-Luc, making his way up the path behind her, each step slow and measured as he leaned on his cane._

"_He's with you," Wesley said, his voice clear and loud in the stillness. "He loves you so much, Mom."_

_And she nodded, looking back at her son, knowing the truth of his words. _

"_You need to stay with him, on that side. I'll be there soon."_

_She let go of the breath she was holding, wiped her fingers over her cheeks. "I'll be here."_

_And as Wesley turned to go, she felt Jean-Luc behind her, standing near, his chest against her back, his chin on her shoulder, cheek against cheek. She held her hand up to his face, pressed him closer._

_She would wait._

~vVv~

Jean-Luc had forgotten just how restless a sleeper his older son was. Whereas Walker was their snuggler, Andrew was their squirmer – twisting and turning under the blankets, burrowing his head under his father's pillow, over his arm, across his chest. Jean-Luc had managed to sleep for a while – a little over an hour he realized as he looked at the clock beside the bed. But he was awake now, staring out the viewport above him, remembering his dream.

_He'd been home, in the mountains, walking up the path to the ford, the trees around him comforting and familiar._

_He was alone, which was odd, because he rarely went to the ford by himself. Both families usually went together, making a special day of it – picnicking, swimming, fishing, picking blueberries – a long, fulfilling day. He looked behind him, expecting to see the children tagging along, playing a haphazard game of hide and go seek as they made their way up the path. But the dirt road behind him was as empty as it was ahead._

_He sighed and leaned heavily on his cane. And that was odd, too. A part of his mind knew that wasn't right – he didn't need his cane anymore. Beverly had fixed him, had repaired the damage that he'd suffered so many years ago. He was fit now, and strong. But as he tested his next step, he felt that he still needed his cane, felt the faint tug of resistance as he placed his left foot ahead of the right._

_And he knew he was dreaming. And he wondered where he was going._

_He moved on, picking up his pace as best he could._

_The forest around him was silent. Another odd thing in an odd dream, for the woods were never silent. There was always sound and movement, if only the gentle rustling of leaves or whisper of wind against the branches. But not now. The only sound he heard was the steady beat of his heart as he continued to climb the steepening path._

_The pattern of sunlight beneath his feet shifted and bent as the limbs above his head swayed in the soft breeze – light then shadow played across the leaves and pine needles that blanketed the dirt and rocks. Something in the air spoke of spring – warm with a hint of crisp coolness._

_He took another few steps, the last bend before the river, and there, standing ahead of him, close to the water's edge, was Beverly. And on the other side…_

Wesley.

_He saw Beverly look over her shoulder at him and then back toward her son._

_And then he was behind her, pressing chest to back, propping his chin on her shoulder, his cheek against hers. Beverly's hand cupped his face, pulled him closer, staying with him as they watched Wesley turn and move away, up the mountain path, out of sight._

"_He's coming back," Beverly whispered._

Jean-Luc blinked at the stars that shone in the viewport above him, felt tears on his cheeks, then saw movement near the open doorway. Carefully, not wanting to wake Andrew, he raised his head from the pillow, pushed an elbow behind him, propping up enough to see Will across the room. The younger man nodded, gesturing for him to come out into the lounge.

Jean-Luc looked down at Andrew and gently moved him to the other side of the bed, his head resting on Beverly's pillow now instead of his chest. He got up and quickly moved into the other room. Will was at the desk.

"I've just received a message from Ben Sisko," he said quietly, looking up from the computer screen.

And Jean-Luc sighed, placing a hand on Will's shoulder. "I know. Wesley's on his way."

~vVv~

He would be arriving within a few hours, coming in on a small starship and not stepping from one alternate plane of existence back into this one, even though he had been exploring those other planes with the Traveler for the past six months – six months for Wesley, almost eleven years for them.

Will leaned back in the desk chair and stared up at Jean-Luc. "How did you know?"

And Jean-Luc squeezed his shoulder before walking over to the couch and sinking down onto it. He rested his elbows on his knees, threaded his hands together, and propped his chin against his fists. He smiled over at Will. "I dreamed about him."

Will got up and joined him on the couch, sitting beside him, leaning forward, his own posture mirroring Jean-Luc's. "A dream?"

Jean-Luc nodded. "I was walking up the path to the ford. And when I arrived, he was there with Beverly. He didn't say anything to me, but she said that he was coming."

Will arched an eyebrow. "So you believe Wesley was speaking to you in your dream?"

And Jean-Luc arched an eyebrow back at him. "Well, he will be here in a few hours. What do you think?"

Will shook his head, even as a grin spread across his face. "I usually leave alternate forms of communication up to my wife. She's had more experience in that area, but…" And he rested a hand on Jean-Luc's knee. "I think it's a good sign."

Jean-Luc managed a half-smile. "I think it is, too."

~vVv~

He sat on the couch with Will for a while longer before heading back to sickbay. It reminded him of other times that they'd shared, not necessarily speaking, just sitting and drawing strength from the other's presence – many evenings spent on the front porches of their cabins while struggling through a hard decision or another birth – a friendship forged through time and space.

A half hour later, he returned to sickbay, meeting Deanna at the entrance.

"Any change?" he asked, his eyes traveling down the short hallway towards Beverly's room.

Deanna wrapped an arm around his waist and led him in that direction. "Her fever seems to be lowering. Julian says that's a good sign."

Jean-Luc issued a small sigh of relief. "Did Will contact you?"

Deanna nodded. "I know about Wesley. I think that's a good sign, too." She walked him into Beverly's room and over to the chair by her bed. "Now, why don't you sit and tell your wife that her oldest son is on his way?"

Jean-Luc sat and smiled up at her. "Sounds like a good plan," he agreed, reaching over and wrapping his fingers tightly around Beverly's hand. He could see that her face seemed more peaceful now, could hear that her breathing was less labored. He glanced back at Deanna. "But somehow, I think she already knows."

~vVv~


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note:** Thanks for reading and reviewing! I really appreciate all the support!

Deanna watched as the sparkle of light above the transporter pad solidified into Wesley Crusher – tall, thin, shaggy brown hair over brown eyes. And she smiled. As soon as Beverly woke up, she'd be badgering him to get that hair cut – probably want to cut it herself.

Wesley stepped off the pad and they met halfway, enveloping each other in a hug, arms holding on tightly.

"Your mom's doing better," was the first thing Deanna said, whispering in his ear, kissing his cheek. "Her fever isn't as high. I think she'll wake up soon." She took a step back, held him by the shoulders, studied his face. "Especially if she senses that you're here."

"I wish I could have gotten here sooner," he sighed, then hugged Deanna again.

She rubbed her hands over his back. "How did you know?"

And he pulled away, looked down into her eyes. "She was looking for me. And somehow…I just knew."

Deanna touched her hand to his cheek. "I think she's been looking for you for a long time."

Both a puzzled expression and a boyish grin crossed Wesley's face. "I know my mom's missed me, but it's only been six months."

Drawing in a deep breath, Deanna wrapped her arm around his and pulled him close, leaning against him as she led him out of the transporter room. "I have a story to tell you, Wes. It's actually quite a long story, but… I'll try to make it short."

~vVv~

Between the transporter room and sickbay, Deanna managed to give him a rather abbreviated version of their very long story.

And despite his concern for his mother's health, Wesley couldn't keep the smile off his face. "Two brothers and a sister," he repeated Deanna's last words.

"And a stepfather," she confirmed, squeezing his hand in hers. "And an aunt, an uncle, and four cousins."

"You mean… you and Commander Riker…"

"Your brothers and sister call him Uncle Will," she smiled at the joyful expression on Wesley's face.

He shook his head. "I can't believe it. I mean, here I've been exploring alternate planes of existence, and you've all been… living on one of those planes."

"But we're back now, and so are you."

They'd paused in front of Beverly's office, but now Deanna pulled him down the hall to her room. "Jean-Luc is sitting with her. He's eager to see you."

Wesley hesitated outside the closed door. "My stepfather," he murmured.

And Deanna squeezed his hand again. "You brothers and sister call him Papa."

~vVv~

The room was dark, except for a halo of light around the bed. From the open doorway, Wesley could see his mother and the figure sitting next to her, the broad uniformed shoulders and smooth domed head – a beacon in the night – solid, sure… familiar.

As the added illumination from the hall fell across the floor, the man in the chair turned toward him, and even in the dim light, Wesley could see the expression of relief spread across his features.

"Wes." The voice was low and accented, and he got up and crossed over to him in two strides, his arms going around him in what could only be described as a bear hug – no hesitancy, all warmth and security. And Wesley hugged back. Six months for him, almost eleven years for the man who held him – which explained why the hug went on longer than it normally would have.

And Wesley didn't mind, holding on and pressing his head against the man's shoulder, hands against his back. "Captain," he murmured.

And he felt a soft rumble of laughter against his chest, a hand cupping the back of his head. "We'll have to work on that… son."

"Yes, sir," he managed around the sudden lump in his throat, the tremble of his lower lip.

But he wasn't ashamed of the tears that instantly sprang to his eyes, especially when he pulled back and saw those same tears mirrored in the captain's hazel green gaze.

"It's so good to see you, Wes," Jean-Luc said softly, still holding him by the arms.

Neither wanted to let go.

"You, too," he replied, equally as soft, then looking past the captain toward his mother. "How is she?"

Jean-Luc turned, one arm still wrapped around Wesley, and led him closer to the bed. "She's doing better. Her breathing isn't as labored, her temperature is lower, and she's been… restless. Moving around more. I believe… her eyes are going to open any minute now - especially since you're here." He looked over at the young man and hugged him closer to his side.

And Wesley returned the pressure, his head resting against the captain's shoulder - not a position he'd ever taken with this man, but now it seemed like the most natural thing in the universe – here, now, he was on the only plane of existence that mattered.

"I think I dreamed that she was looking for me," he whispered.

And Jean-Luc sighed. "I think we all did."

~vVv~

Deanna brought in another chair, and Wesley and Jean-Luc sat close together in the cocoon of pale light that surrounded the bed. They spoke in hushed tones, sharing six months and over ten years of memories and stories. But Wesley listened more than he talked – even alternate planes of existence paled in comparison with life lived on the side of a mountain in 20th century Tennessee.

"You and Commander Riker built them yourselves?" Wesley asked, mesmerized by Jean-Luc's description of their mountain homes.

"Well, Will probably did more building than I did, but it was a joint effort. I participated as much as I could," Jean-Luc explained.

"You'd been injured," Wesley clarified, piecing all the details together in his mind.

Jean-Luc nodded. "My left side was weak, had some difficulty walking for all the years that we were there. But I managed. Always had a very good doctor taking care of me." And he smiled toward the bed, his eyes focused on the woman he loved.

"Sounds like you took care of each other," Wesley said.

And Jean-Luc looked back at him. "We did. All of us. That first year, we only had each other. It took a while to get to know the people in the gap. They're not very trusting of strangers." A soft smile spread across his face. "But once we did get to know each other… Well, we made some good friends."

"And had your own families," Wesley added, with a smile of his own.

_A damn cheeky smile,_ Jean-Luc thought, but found himself laughing all the same. "Yes," he admitted, "your mother and I decided early on to live as husband and wife. It made sense, and-"

"It was… my… idea."

And they looked immediately toward the bed to find Beverly awake, her blue eyes taking them both in, holding them in her gaze.

She swallowed, her voice husky from disuse. "I… said yes to your… unspoken question, but… it was still… my idea."

"And one of your best…ideas ever," Jean-Luc's voice broke as he moved to her side, leaning over and pressing a kiss to her forehead, feeling the coolness of her skin against his lips. He sighed, and took her hand in his, watching as Wesley went to the other side of the bed, taking his mother's other hand and holding it to his cheek.

Beverly touched her fingers to her son's face. "Wes…" she breathed, and tears glistened in her eyes.

"I'm right here, Mom." He felt his lower lip trembling, and Beverly cupped his chin in her hand.

"I'm all right… now," she assured him.

And he nodded. "I know."

She looked back at Jean-Luc. "The children?"

He smiled, even as tears of relief tracked down his cheeks. "They're fine. Will's with them."

And Beverly returned his smile, exhaled a slow breath. "That's good..." She shifted her eyes toward Wesley. "They like…their Uncle Will."

"I can't wait to meet them, Mom. The captain's told me all about them."

"The captain?" And her smile broadened.

And Jean-Luc laughed. "We're going to work on that. Aren't we, Wes?"

~vVv~

Julian Bashir gave them five minutes before he ushered them out of the room so he could examine his patient properly and then let her rest. Jean-Luc might have protested if Doctor Selar hadn't been standing beside him with an equally firm expression on her face. But he had long since learned that there was no use arguing with a Vulcan – Selar didn't argue and she certainly didn't give in. And so he'd given Beverly another tender kiss and promised to return later in the morning. She'd sent her love to the children and squeezed Wesley's hand one more time before closing her eyes and slipping into a natural, fever-free sleep.

"Just what she needs to be doing," Julian assured them. "Now that her fever's broken, she should be just fine. She may need four or five more days to regain her strength, but I think she's definitely past the worst of it."

Jean-Luc had thanked both of the doctors, and then, with a steady hand on Wesley's shoulder, he led the way out of sickbay and through the corridors to their cabin. It was almost 0900 hours, and he knew the children would be awake.

"Will and Margaret are probably elbow-deep in pancakes right about now." He smiled at the image.

"Isn't it easier just to replicate breakfast," Wesley surmised.

And Jean-Luc simply laughed. "Oh, no, not pancakes. They're your sister's specialty, and Will… Well, let's just say that Uncle Will is quite the cook."

They got to the door and stopped. Wesley drew in a deep breath, looked over at Jean-Luc. "I'm a little nervous," he admitted. "It's not every day you meet new brothers and a sister."

Jean-Luc squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry, Wes. They're going to adore you; they already do. Your mother's shown them pictures, told them stories. They may be a little shy at first. But believe me; they'll warm up to you." He gave him a broad smile. "After all, I did."

And Wesley laughed; Jean-Luc's admission easing the tension as the door slid open before them.

"Yes, chocolate chips," were the first words they heard as they entered the cabin, their eyes immediately drawn to the corner of the room to what passed as the kitchen area, such as it was. Beside the replicator, they'd installed a two-burner range and a square butcher block table for prep work. And at that moment, Will, dressed in one of Beverly's aprons, was busy preparing pancakes. The children were crowded around him, each giving his or her suggestions.

"Bananas are better, Walker," Andrew countered. "Right, Uncle Will?"

"Just plain," Margaret insisted, ever a traditionalist, Jean-Luc thought as a grin spread over his face.

"Perhaps you'd like to ask your brother Wesley what he prefers," Jean-Luc called out over their voices.

Four sets of eyes shifted in their direction, and three of the four fell silent while Will smiled broadly at the former ensign, stepping around the table and striding over to wrap him in a hug. "Wes," he rumbled, "welcome home. It's good to see you." He thumped him on the back and Wesley returned the gesture.

"It's good to be here."

"Deanna contacted us. Told us Beverly is better." He looked over Wesley's shoulder at Jean-Luc.

"Much better," Jean-Luc confirmed, crossing over to the children. "She sends her love to everyone."

Will released his hold on Wesley and stepped back. The two of them gazed toward the kitchen area where Jean-Luc now stood with one hand on Margaret's shoulder and the other on Andrew's. Walker had disappeared behind his father's legs.

"Margaret, Andrew, I'd like you to meet your brother Wesley." He glanced back over his shoulder. "And Walker, if you'll come out of hiding, you can meet him, too."

A red head poked around Jean-Luc's knee. "Not hiding," he murmured, then buried his face against his father's thigh.

Wesley smiled over at them, and took a tentative step closer. "It's nice to meet you. Your father's told me a lot about you."

Margaret returned the smile, and Jean-Luc saw what he'd always seen; she looked the most like her older brother. He wondered if Wesley saw it. "Mama's told us all about you, too," she said. "She showed us pictures."

"And told us lots of stories," Andrew added.

"Well, we'll probably need to tell some more stories," Wesley suggested. "You've known about me longer than I've known about you."

Walker twisted his head away from Jean-Luc's leg and shyly looked up at Wesley. "Papa tells stories, too."

"Oh, I know that." Wesley shifted his eyes to Jean-Luc. "He's told me some stories before. Some real good ones."

"And they were all true," Jean-Luc grinned. "Unfortunately."

"Why don't we have some pancakes to go with those stories?" Will offered as he returned to the kitchen area and poured some batter into a pan.

"Do you want chocolate chips or bananas?" Walker asked, pulling away from Jean-Luc and sidling up to Wesley.

"Plain, Walker," Margaret insisted.

"We don't like plain," Andrew huffed.

"Well, you're not making them. Uncle Will and I are."

"Uncle Will is," Andrew shot back. "You're not."

"I am, too!"

"Are not!"

And Jean-Luc leaned against the butcher block table, suddenly tired after a long night. He looked over at Wesley, caught his eye even as his younger siblings crowded around him. "Welcome to the family, Wes," he smiled.

And Wesley smiled back. "It's good to be here."

~vVv~


	24. Chapter 24

Breakfast was quite enjoyable, if not loud. Three children, all vying for their older brother's attention, made for quite a boisterous meal. Jean-Luc sat at one end of the dining table and Will at the other. Wesley sat on one side with Margaret to his right and Andrew to his left, and within minutes, Walker had climbed onto his lap. Understandably, most of the children's questions revolved around what it had been like for Wesley growing up on the _Enterprise_. And the stories he told kept them enthralled.

Until Jean-Luc made an announcement.

"All right," he looked over at his children, who were still hanging on Wesley's every word, "it's almost 0900 hours, and you've missed part of class already. I suggest you get dressed, and Wesley and I will walk you to school."

"Oh, Papa, no, can't we stay here today?" Andrew complained.

"We want to see Mama, too," Margaret chimed in.

Jean-Luc shook his head. "No, no, no, we've already taken some time off. And although your mother is feeling better, I think it best that we let her rest today, and you can see her tomorrow - if Doctor Selar and Doctor Bashir say that it's all right."

Walker crossed his arms over his chest, his lower lip jutting out in a noticeable pout. "I don't wanna go to school."

And Jean-Luc laughed. Walker had been begging to go to school for years, and now that they were back on the ship, there was a class for four-year-olds.

"Well, that's too bad, because that's where you're going," his father insisted. "Now, scoot, all of you. Change out of your pajamas, brush your teeth, comb your hair."

Reluctantly, they followed his directions, getting up and moving away from the table.

"What do you tell your uncle?" Jean-Luc prompted.

"Thanks for the pancakes, Uncle Will," Margaret said.

"Yeah, thanks," Andrew added. "The banana ones were the best."

"They were not," his sister shot back.

"Were, too."

"Go. Now," Jean-Luc interrupted their quarrel.

Walker slid off Wesley's lap and trailed behind them.

"Bring your clothes in here, Walker, and I'll help you," his father said, and Walker nodded.

"And Papa," Margaret called back over her shoulder, "I need you to braid my hair."

"I can do that. Now hurry."

Wesley watched, his smile growing larger as he realized how much the captain had changed: refereeing squabbles, dressing children, braiding hair. A far cry from captaining a starship, addressing delegates, and mediating peace treaties. Well, maybe that last one still applied, and Wesley chuckled.

Jean-Luc turned toward him, one eyebrow raised. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"I always knew you'd be a good father."

He sighed. "Well, that made one of us. I think even your mother had some doubts."

"Which you quickly dispelled," Will commented, getting up and gathering the breakfast plates in his hands. Wesley stood and helped, taking them over to the recycler. "He's been a wonderful father, Wesley. And a damn good uncle."

"You know how I feel about flattery, Will." And his next sigh sounded more like a groan that turned into a yawn.

"How do you feel about getting some sleep and letting me and Wes take the kids to school? Then I'll get Wes settled into his own quarters."

"No," Jean-Luc leaned back in his chair, rubbed tiredly at his eyes. "I'm fine."

"The hell you are, Jean-Luc," Will persisted, and Wesley was surprised by the familiarity between the two men. They'd always had a good relationship, but it had been clearly defined – captain and first officer. Now, they were more like equals – good friends, brothers. "You're half asleep already. Wes can dress Walker, and I'll braid Margaret's hair."

Jean-Luc looked over at them, and gave an exhausted smile. "All right, Mother Hen." He pushed himself to his feet. "You have the bridge."

"Aye, aye, Captain," Will grinned.

"Wesley, it's good to have you back. On advice from my first officer, I think I'll take a two-hour nap, then go visit your mother. I'll see you then?"

"That sounds good, sir."

And Jean-Luc wagged a finger at him as he crossed toward his bedroom. "You could try Jean-Luc," he suggested.

And Wesley glanced over at Will, who simply shook his head. "It took me several months, but if I could do it…"

"I'll work on it," Wesley promised.

~vVv~

"Papa does a French braid," Margaret said as Will's large fingers twisted her long brown hair into a single braid down her back.

Her uncle grinned. "I'm sure he does, but today you're getting an Alaskan braid."

"What's that?"

And Will chuckled as he looked over her head toward Wesley. "The only kind I know how to do."

Wesley laughed at his response, but was finding that he had his own hands full with Walker. The four-year-old had appeared back in the lounge dressed in a shirt and pants, and had only needed some help with buttons and zippers. It was the boots that were proving to be difficult. Wesley couldn't seem to get the small feet pushed into them properly.

"Are you sure these fit, Walker?" He looked at the boy's foot and then at one of the boots.

"Uh-uh," he nodded, "Mama got'em out of the rep-clator."

"Replicator," Margaret corrected, then looked at Wesley. "Mama puts them on, then makes him jump up and down. That makes his heels go down into them," she explained matter-of-factly.

So Wesley followed her advice and was pleased to see that it only took three or four jumps before his feet slid into place.

"Andrew?" Will, who had finished with Margaret's hair, crossed over to the entrance to the back hall and called for him. "Let's go."

He appeared instantly, dressed and ready.

Will gave them the onceover, combing Andrew's bangs with his fingers and straightening the shirt that Walker had already managed to stretch out of shape by pulling his arm inside and twisting his elbow. "Keep your arms on the outside," he instructed as he pulled the arm back into the sleeve. Then he stood back. "All right. All of you come home to our place this afternoon, and we'll plan on eating in Ten Forward." He glanced over at Wesley. "I think Grandmother Lwaxana wants to have a special dinner in honor of your big brother."

Wesley arched his eyebrows. "Ambassador Troi is visiting?"

And Will nodded as Walker piped up, "She said we could call her Grandmother Lwaxana."

"Um-um," Margaret agreed. "She came for the wedding."

"I see." Jean-Luc had told him about the ceremony and how the medical emergency on DS9 and interrupted the festivities. "Well, I want to hear more about that wedding," he requested. "Maybe you can tell me all about it at dinner tonight. I heard all of you were in it."

"Yeah, and when we get to school, you can meet Sam and Thomas," Andrew said. "They were in it, too."

"And me and Matilda," Walker added. "She's little."

"And later you can meet Lucy," Margaret decided. "She's even littler."

"All right. Now that everything is settled," Will took a step toward the door and it slid open, "let's go."

And the children filed out after him with Wesley following along.

~vVv~

They delivered the children to their respective classes, and Wesley was introduced to Sam and Thomas, then Will took him to guest quarters. "I wish your old quarters were available, but we've already reassigned them."

"That's all right. These will be fine." He looked around, saw that his bag had been delivered.

"I see you've been traveling light," Will observed. "I guess you don't really need a lot on alternate planes."

And Wesley shrugged. "No, not really."

"Well, I'll let you get settled in and rest. I know you'll want to go back and see your mom in a while." He turned to go, but hesitated at the door, looked back over his shoulder. "You know, Wes, this cabin may be allocated as temporary guest quarters, but… they can always become permanent." He smiled. "Just something to think about."

And then he was gone, the door sliding closed behind him.

Wesley sighed and crossed over to the viewport, sank down on the couch in front of it. He could see one corner of Deep Space Nine and, beyond that, wide open space, millions of stars and galaxies, interspersed with a multitude of alternate planes. Then he looked around at the four grey walls that surrounded him.

Something to think about indeed.

~vVv~

He'd let Will have his way. The alternative would have been to pull rank on him or argue – both actions he'd employed before, although pulling rank had not worked as well in recent years. And besides, he was exhausted.

As he crossed toward the bathroom, he let his uniform lay where it landed – boots and socks by the door, jacket over a chair, shirt on the floor, trousers beside the bed. Only his underwear made it into the recycler – a tired corner of his mind registering that fact – and he smiled, imagining Beverly picking up after him, complaining that he was as bad as the children. And then he was standing in the shower as hard, hot needles of water pulsed against his chest and back, loosening not only the tense muscles along his shoulders but the tight hold on his emotions as well. He began to tremble and he placed his hands against the tile wall of the shower, bracing himself as the tears came. And he didn't try to stop them; he just let them flow, like the water and his thoughts of Beverly.

~vVv~

He didn't know how long he stood there, wasn't sure how many minutes had passed, but finally he reached up and turned off the water, grabbed a towel and dried off. Then he padded naked into the bedroom and over to the dresser. As he rummaged through the top drawer looking for his favorite pair of pajamas – the grey shorts and shirt – his eyes fell upon one of the many pictures that adorned the dresser's top surface. It was an old picture; they were all so young: he and Beverly and Jack. And as his fingers closed around the fabric of his pajamas, he remembered Beverly placing the picture there weeks ago when they'd first returned to the _Enterprise_.

"_How does it look?" She stepped back so that he could see her latest decorating touches; for days, she'd been busy making his cabin their home._

_He looked up from where he sat on the edge of the bed, folding laundry. It was a chore that he'd actually enjoyed while on the mountain, and so he'd programmed the recycler not to deliver their clothes pre-folded. Beverly had doubted that would last for long, but so far, he still found the task enjoyable._

_Getting up, he crossed over to the dresser and gazed at the framed pictures that she'd placed there: one of Wesley when he was about fifteen, new ones of the children taken in the last few days since they'd boarded the ship, one of all five of them taken just last year when a traveling photographer had come to Cutter Gap. And an old one of him, and Beverly, and Jack taken not long after they'd started dating._

_Beverly touched her hand to that one and looked over at him. "I wasn't sure about this. Is it all right?"_

_For so many years before they'd landed on the mountain, he'd let his memory of Jack stand in the way of his love for Beverly – he'd felt guilty for loving her even before Jack died. And after the accident, admitting that he loved her would have been like betraying his best friend. But time – and space – had healed those wounds, had helped him realize that Jack's memory was something to be cherished as was his love for Beverly._

_And he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. One love didn't replace another. And old loves weren't forgotten when new ones came along. Jack would always be in their hearts and memories – and it made sense for him to be on their dresser._

"_It's perfect," he breathed, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. "All of them are perfect."_

And now, as he gazed upon the picture of his best friend, he felt a feeling of gratitude well up inside him – as if he owed Jack something, as if he'd been watching out for her, leading her back, not allowing her to pass into that next plane of existence – letting her stay here with him and Wesley and the children.

He touched his hand to the frame. "Thank you, old friend," he whispered, then turned away and quickly pulled on his pajamas, crossed to the bed, and fell into it, his eyes closing before his head hit the pillow.

He dreamed of home. And Beverly was beside him.

~vVv~


	25. Chapter 25

He'd lived a lifetime in less than a day – marrying the woman he loved, then almost losing her, then getting her back. It seemed like forever had passed and it had only been a little over eighteen hours.

Beverly was propped up against pillows when he entered her room, her red hair fanned about her, blue eyes clear and bright.

"You should be sleeping," he gently admonished, crossing over to the bed and pressing a soft kiss to her cheek.

She sighed. "I've slept all morning." There was a note of exasperation in her voice, but he could hear the exhaustion behind it.

"And Julian says you should sleep some more. It's the best thing for you." He wrapped his hand around hers.

She squeezed his fingers. "I want to see my family."

He smiled. "And they want to see you. Tomorrow."

She frowned. "Jean…"

"Doctor's orders."

She started to protest.

"And you can't override them." He touched his other hand to her cheek, fingers caressing the now cool skin. "Wesley will be here soon. You'll just have to make do with one child for today. Besides, he may like to have your undivided attention."

A trace of concern crossed her features. "He met the children?"

Jean-Luc nodded. "And they loved him – asked him a million questions. And I think… the feeling was mutual. But it's a lot for him to take in, I'm sure. He's had you all to himself for so long. He's your firstborn, Beverly. There's always going to be that special connection."

Her expression softened. "But he's not a little boy anymore."

"When it comes to a man and his mother, trust me, we don't ever really grow up."

And she gave a gentle smile as she gazed at him. She knew how much Jean-Luc loved Yvette Picard, how she'd been the one who had supported his dreams, sheltered him from the demands of his father and brother. He'd been his mother's son, as was Wesley.

"I'm so glad he's here," she murmured.

Jean-Luc brushed his fingers through her hair. "I am, too." He leaned down and touched his lips to hers, kissed her gently, drew back, whispered in her ear, "I'm glad you're here."

And she saw it in his eyes – both fear and relief – that knowledge that he could have lost her.

"I'm sorry, Jean. For worrying you."

He kissed her again. "No reason to be sorry, just – don't ever do it again."

"I second that." The voice came from the doorway and they looked over to see Wesley. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

Jean-Luc straightened and stepped back. "Of course not. We've just been talking about you."

Wesley grinned and moved to the other side of the bed. "That's why my ears were burning." He leaned over and kissed his mother on the cheek.

Beverly held her hand to his face and pressed him close for several long moments before releasing him.

"Well, I wouldn't know," she laughed. "I can't see those ears under all that hair."

And Wesley groaned. "Mom!"

"Don't they have barbers on any of those alternate planes?"

~vVv~

Will had gone back to his quarters earlier in the morning to find that Deanna had returned, Lwaxana was gone, the boys were at school, Matilda was at daycare, Lucy was sleeping – and he was alone with his wife. A situation he was quite pleased with.

"What shall we do with ourselves?" he grinned as he approached her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

Deanna pressed in close to his chest and sighed. "I would think you'd be too tired to do anything. I know I am." It had been a long night, and the relief that Beverly would be all right had, in some ways, exhausted her even more."

"Never too tired," he sighed, only to find that sigh turning into a yawn.

Deanna patted her hand against his chest. "Come on, old man, we can take a nap and then see what happens."

And Will laughed as his wife led him into the bedroom, where he immediately stripped off his clothes and fell into bed. He watched as Deanna took a little more time to prepare, changing out of her uniform into her nightgown, brushing her hair.

"A hundred times," he chuckled, as the brush slid through the glistening black waves.

And Deanna smiled. "I don't brush it a hundred times."

"You do. I heard you counting one time."

She laid the brush back on the dresser, turned, and crossed to the bed, sliding in beside him. She settled her head against his shoulder and curled in close. "Well, I'm too tired to count right now."

Will sighed and kissed her gently on the lips. "I love you, Deanna."

She snuggled closer. "I love you." _Imzadi._

~vVv~

They stayed less than an hour, then got up to leave so that Beverly could get some more rest. She protested, wanting them to stay longer, but Jean-Luc resisted.

"Besides, we need to get some lunch, and I don't think Wesley has seen Guinan yet."

"And you don't want Guinan to get mad at me for avoiding her," Wesley added with a grin.

Beverly exhaled a long breath, suppressing a yawn. And Jean-Luc leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Get some rest," he breathed. "We'll be back later. I promise."

She nodded and let them go, only to issue a comment when they reached the door. "You know, Wes, Guinan is a woman of many talents. I hear she cuts hair."

~vVv~

Will lay on his back staring up at the viewport above him, Deanna's head pillowed on his shoulder. Once he'd felt the touch of her in his mind, they'd discovered that neither of them was too tired, and they'd made love until they truly were exhausted. Now, they lay still, listening to each other breathe, Deanna gently fingering the curls of damp hair on his chest.

"I won't leave you and the children," she whispered, her breath warm against his bare skin.

And he shivered; she always knew what he was thinking.

"We can't promise that, Deanna. You never know what might happen. We're back on the _Enterprise_. I could be hurt on an away mission. The ship could be attacked. You could be injured." He drew in a deep breath. "We could have lost Beverly."

"But we didn't." She draped her arm across him. "And we can't dwell on what might happen."

"I know. But… it's different now. I always knew the risks of joining Starfleet, going into space. I just never thought I'd be taking a family with me."

"Sometimes, our paths choose us. You've walked enough mountain trails in the past ten years to know that."

He sighed. "I miss those mountains."

"I do, too. But there were risks there as well. Every time you and Jean-Luc ventured away from our cabins, Beverly and I worried. If something had happened to either of you…"

Will held her closer. "Now look who's dwelling?"

And Deanna laughed softly. "You're right. Maybe we should do a little less dwelling and a little more sleeping before we have to deal with four kids."

"Good idea," Will agreed, reaching down and pulling the sheet up over them. He felt her burrow closer to him, her lips brushing against his chest. "Deanna?"

"Um?"

"I may not have chosen this path, but… I'm right where I want to be."

"So am I." _Imzadi._

~vVv~

Ten Forward was crowded when they arrived, members of the crew spread around the room enjoying lunch and each other's company. Several of them came up to Wesley to say hello and others waved from across the room. Although he'd been tired, he hadn't stayed in his guest quarters for long, and he'd already spent most of the morning catching up with Data, Geordi, and Worf. Now he was pleased to see Guinan approaching from behind the bar. When she reached them, she enfolded Wesley in a giant hug, the long sleeves of her purple tunic wrapping around him like a blanket.

"Wes, it's good to see you."

He felt her patting his back, and he relaxed into her embrace, let her hold him a few seconds longer before he pulled away and looked into her dark eyes. "It's good to you, too."

She gestured toward a table by the viewport. "Have a seat and let me get you both a home-cooked meal."

Wesley blinked at her choice of words. Even Guinan used the replicator in Ten Forward.

Jean-Luc saw the puzzled expression on his face and smiled. "You'll see," he assured him as they crossed over to the proffered table and sat down. "In light of our recent adventure, Guinan has added some new recipes to her menu."

Wesley looked over to see her coming back to the table with a tray. He grinned when she set a glass of milk in front of him. "Thanks, but I'm not a kid anymore."

She set a glass of milk in front of the captain. "Neither is he, but he knows not to argue," she laughed.

Then she set down two identical plates of food: fried chicken, squash, mashed potatoes, and…

"What's this?" Wesley stared at the small brown crispy items on his plate.

"This," Jean-Luc declared, "is absolutely exquisite. All my early life I grew up sampling the best French cuisine, but I've never had anything quite like it." He speared one of the bits with his fork, held it up. "This is fried okra." And he popped the morsel into his mouth and chewed, finishing it off with a large gulp of milk that left a noticeable white moustache above is upper lip.

Wesley just stared, wondering where and when he'd slipped back into another alternate plane.

~vVv~


	26. Chapter 26

She'd pinched his cheeks.

Both of them.

And then she'd pressed a kiss to his forehead and must have left a trace of lipstick, for a few seconds later Deanna smiled at him apologetically as she brushed her fingers over his right eyebrow.

Wesley just grinned and watched as Lwaxana Troi took a seat at the table and indicated the chair next to hers – the place of honor, he supposed, sandwiched in between her and Jean-Luc.

And so, he sat down. What else was there to do?

It was, after all, his dinner – a welcome home celebration, Lwaxana had declared when they'd first entered Ten Forward.

"_The sailor's home from the sea," she said. "The lost lamb has returned to the fold."_

"_But Wesley's not a sailor," Sam pointed out._

"_And he's not a lamb either," Thomas verified._

_And Lwaxana sighed because they didn't understand her references. "Deanna, the boys need to read more."_

_Deanna rolled her eyes. "They read enough – both Earth and Betazed classics."_

"_Wesley's back from alternate planes," Thomas stated, peering up at his grandmother. "Mama says he stepped back into this one."'_

_She smiled down at her grandson and agreed with him. "You're right, Thomas, and that's why we're here – a welcome home celebration for Wesley."_

Now he looked around the table as family and friends gathered. Data, Geordi, and Worf were at the far end with Will and Deanna and their children. Wesley smiled as Data expertly rocked Lucy in his arms, having volunteered to hold the baby since he wasn't planning on eating. Across the table, Andrew, Margaret, and Walker crowded in together, staring over at him, laughing and whispering about something. Jean-Luc sat down next to him, glancing in Lwaxana's direction. And beside her was an empty chair reserved for Guinan, who was busy arranging the delivery of the food.

But even though it was nice to be with everyone, it felt incomplete without his mother.

He knew she was getting better. He'd spent more time with her in sickbay that afternoon, talking about his adventures and hers, reconnecting, trying to compress six months and ten years into a time frame they could better grasp and comprehend – a difficult task but one that needed to be done, needed to be held and discussed and examined - and shared as they had shared so much in their lives.

For so long his family had been just the two of them. After his father had died, they had only had each other and they were closer than most parents and children because of that – there was no one else to divide their time. Now, as he looked around the table, he saw how much larger that family had grown, seemingly in a blink of an eye – not for his mom but for him – only child to older child of four in less than a day. It was a good feeling, but a bit overwhelming.

He looked down the table again and found Deanna smiling at him, almost as if she were reading his thoughts. And although he knew she wasn't, he did know that she was picking up on his feelings. Maybe he'd find time to have a long talk with her – as a counselor and a friend.

But for now, there was a dinner to be eaten.

And a celebration to be observed, he was reminded when Jean-Luc stood to make a toast.

"This gathering was planned by Lwaxana, and a wonderful idea it was." He smiled down at the flamboyantly dressed ambassador. "As Daughter of the Fifth House, Holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, and Heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed, making toasts and welcoming important dignitaries is part of her everyday routine, but I am most grateful that she has allowed me to make the opening toast this evening."

Lwaxana smiled indulgently, and Jean-Luc continued.

"So many years ago – even more years ago now – I watched as a boy came onto my bridge. And I'm afraid I didn't react very well that day. As I had just told my first officer, I wasn't a family man, yet Starfleet had given me a ship with children aboard. Trust me when I say that I am well aware of the irony." A ripple of laughter passed around the table as he gazed down at Andrew, Margaret, and Walker, then shifted his eyes to Wesley. "Over the years, it was my privilege to watch that boy grow into an exceptional young man. Not only did he walk onto my bridge, but he became a valued member of my crew and now my family. These past few weeks have been a homecoming for so many of us, and tonight I'd like to welcome him home as well." He turned toward Wesley and raised his wine glass. "Wesley Crusher, with your return, we are complete."

"Here, here," Will called from the end of the table.

And Jean-Luc reached over and placed a hand, warm and solid, on his shoulder. "It's good to have you back, Wes."

"Speech," Geordi insisted, a broad grin creasing his face.

And Wesley smiled, felt his cheeks flushing slightly, but still he stood as Jean-Luc sat down to give him the floor.

"Well, first I'd like to say thank you, and I'm glad… to be home. It's good to see everyone again, and to meet my brothers and sister, and all my cousins. I have to admit – I never thought I'd have such a large family – other than the family we've made here on the _Enterprise_, which has always been very special to me. I've seen a lot in the past six months, gone places that I never dreamed of going, but… of all those alternate planes of existence," he glanced down at Jean-Luc, "I think… I'd like to stay on this one for a while."

Jean-Luc smiled up at him. "And we'd like that as well."

"I, for one, could use some help in Engineering," Geordi commented from the end of the table.

And everyone laughed, and then started talking. Dinner was served and the celebration lasted long into the evening.

It was almost 2100 hours by the time people started leaving. The children had to go to bed, so Will gathered them all together from various corners of Ten Forward where they'd been playing hide and go seek for the past hour. And Deanna, sensing that Wesley wanted to talk to Jean-Luc, offered to take Andrew, Margaret, and Walker back to the cabin and get them tucked in. Since they didn't seem to mind, Jean-Luc accepted her offer, and soon he and Wesley were the only two left, standing by the viewport, starlight illuminating the darkened room behind them.

"You know, you're welcome to stay here on the _Enterprise_ for as long as you want," Jean-Luc said quietly, looking at the young man from the corner of his eye.

Wesley nodded. "I know. Thank you. I do want to stay for a while." He grinned slightly. "Get to know my brothers and sister."

Jean-Luc smiled. "And they want to get to know you."

Wesley sighed. "But I can't stay forever."

"Well, your mother may disagree with that." Jean-Luc turned towards him. "I don't think she's going to be in any hurry to let you go anytime soon."

"You're probably right, but…" He bit uncertainly at his lower lip, then took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "Sir… do you think Starfleet Academy would… accept me again?"

Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow in speculation, not altogether surprised by Wesley's question. But he had to be honest with him. "I'm not sure, Wes. They'll most likely doubt your commitment to the program, and even if they do reinstate you, you'd have to start your fourth year over."

"I know that."

Jean-Luc was silent for a moment, and then he spoke, his voice low. "Frankly, I'm a bit doubtful of your desire and commitment. Six months ago you were sure that leaving the Academy and going with the Traveler was the plan for your life – you even spoke with your father in a vision quest. Why the change of heart?"

Wesley stared at him, surprised that he knew about his vision quest and his conversation with his father. Jean-Luc could tell by his expression what he was thinking.

"Your mother told me." And he held up his hand when Wesley started to say something. "Don't be upset with her. Remember, it was six months ago for you, but it's been ten and half years for your mother. She and I have had a lot of time to talk about a lot of things over the years. She cares a great deal about you… as do I."

The look on Wesley's face softened at his words. He knew how much they both cared, and the captain deserved an honest answer to his question.

"In my vision quest, my father told me that I shouldn't follow him any further, that I needed to find my own path – that I'd been on a journey all my life that I hadn't chosen. And in some ways, he was right." He drew in another deep breath. "I've learned a lot these past six months – about other people and places. But I've also learned a lot about myself. And I realize now that the path I was on wasn't the wrong path, it was just a path that I hadn't consciously chosen." He hesitated, then continued. "And I'm ready to choose it now."

"I see," Jean-Luc said quietly.

"All my life, I've looked up to you and my father. And now… I'm ready to follow in both my fathers' footsteps."

~vVv~


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's Note:** I'm sorry I haven't posted for a while. And I know this chapter is short, but real life has been quite hectic lately. Thanks for understanding. I really do appreciate all the wonderful reviews! JT

Beverly was feeling much stronger the next day, and Jean-Luc had helped her out of bed and over to the small table in the corner of her room, where they now sat with Wesley, waiting for the children to join them for lunch. They'd talked at length about Wesley's decision to return to the Academy. Beverly was pleased, but she wanted to be certain that this was really what he wanted.

"Are you sure?" she asked again for the third time.

And Wesley sighed and smiled at the same time, reaching over and taking his mother's hand in his. "Yes, Mom, I'm sure," he answered again. "I've had a lot of time to think about it – a lot of alternate planes to explore. It's made me understand that… well, maybe the plane I was on was where I was supposed to be all along."

Beverly studied his face, looking for any doubts or shadows in his eyes, and seeing only calm resolve. "I only want you to be happy. You know that."

He nodded, squeezed her hand. "I know."

Beverly glanced over at Jean-Luc. "Do you think he'll have a lot of difficulty getting reinstated?"

Jean-Luc pursed his lips in contemplation before answering. He'd already been making some inquiries. "I sent a message to Admiral Brand this morning." Wesley looked at him expectantly. "She wants to meet with you once we're back on Earth."

"And when will that be?" Beverly asked.

"We'll be leaving here tomorrow, and we've been given permission to head straight home." He smiled softly at Beverly. "Starfleet Command recognizes that some of us haven't seen 24th century Earth in a long time."

She returned his smile, but he saw a glimpse of worry in her eyes.

"What is it?" he questioned, leaning closer to her.

"I'm not sure if some of us are ready to see 24th century Earth."

And he understood her concern. "Well, it'll be a few weeks before we get there. Let's talk to Deanna about the best way to prepare them."

She nodded. "Sounds like a good plan."

And just at that moment, the concerns in question came bounding through the door.

Jean-Luc raised a hand. "Slow down," he warned.

And they skidded to a halt in front of the table, each of them breathing deeply as if they'd run all the way from the school rooms, which they might have done since it seemed they'd arrived on their own. Jean-Luc shook his head. Already they were roaming the ship as if they'd lived here all their lives.

"Approach your mother gently," he directed, as they moved closer.

Andrew went to one side of her, and Margaret to the other, while Walker simply climbed into her lap and burrowed his head against her shoulder. Beverly wrapped her arms around all of them, pulling them close and holding on tightly.

Wesley watched from the other side of the table, for the first time seeing his mother with his brothers and sister. And suddenly, it was more real than it had been. Actually seeing her with other children felt strange, almost unreal. They'd only had each other for so long, and the realization that he wasn't an only child anymore was a little unsettling – not bad, but definitely different.

He watched as she stroked her hands over their backs and shoulders, fingers carding gently through their hair. Walker's curls blended in with the color of Beverly's hair, and Wesley smiled. He'd wondered before if his mother had ever wanted a red-headed child, one that looked more like her since Wesley had taken after Jack. Andrew's and Margaret's hair was brown like his, and he knew that the captain's hair had once been brown before it had gone silver. But Walker was the image of Beverly, with blue eyes that sparkled and danced with lively imagination and an impish grin that made it hard to ever get frustrated with him – which was a good think because being four carried with it the ever-present possibility of frustration. Wesley had already seen that in just the few days that he'd been back – his littlest brother was all energy and adventure.

"Mama, are you all right now?" he demanded, reaching up and getting her attention by patting her cheeks with his hands.

She took both of his hands in one of hers, brought them to her lips, and kissed them. "I am just fine, Walker."

"Can you come home?"

"Tomorrow," Jean-Luc answered.

"But if you're fine, Mama…" Margaret started to question as well.

"She still needs some rest," he continued, reaching out and taking his daughter into his arms, pulling her over onto his lap. "Something she rarely gets taking care of all of us," he laughed.

"We'd be good," Andrew promised.

And Beverly pulled him closer. "I know you would be. But your Papa's right. I'm still a little tired. Let me spend one more night in Sickbay." She looked at all of them. "Have you been taking care of Papa?"

Wesley grinned again; he loved how they called the captain Papa – it suited him, at least hearing the children say it. Wesley doubted that he could ever call him anything other than "captain" or "sir."

"Uncle Will and I made him pancakes yesterday, and we had oatmeal this morning," Margaret answered proudly, ever the little homemaker.

"I read him a story," Walker offered.

"He surely did." Jean-Luc winked over at Beverly. "And he only made me turn the pages."

"We had a party last night," Andrew said.

And Beverly smiled. "I heard. A welcome home Wesley party." She glanced over at her eldest son, saw a slight blush cross his cheeks. "Everyone's glad you're back - especially me. I'm just sorry I couldn't be there."

"We can have another one," Andrew suggested. "When you get out of Sickbay, we can have a welcome home party for you."

Beverly leaned her head against his and kissed his cheek. "That sounds perfect, but…" she glanced over at Jean-Luc, "could we just make it a very small party – just the six of us?"

And Jean-Luc smiled. It did indeed sound perfect.

~vVv~


	28. Chapter 28

After a quiet lunch, the children went back to school, Jean-Luc returned to the bridge, and Wesley headed down to Engineering to give Geordi some help on a warp drive project. Beverly rested for a while, but was pleased when Deanna came for a visit.

"Alyssa comes by, and the nurses check in every now and then, but I can't remember when I've ever been this alone," she laughed as Deanna settled into the chair by her bed. "In the cabin, somebody was always under foot – usually Walker or Jean-Luc."

Deanna smiled in understanding. "I know. Thank goodness I'm beginning to schedule more counseling appointments. With the boys in school, and the girls at childcare, I think I'd be totally lost without something to do. Of course, the past few days have been rather busy."

Beverly frowned slightly. "I haven't had a chance to thank you for helping Jean-Luc with the children."

Deanna shook her head. "It was no problem. Having Mother here has actually been wonderful. I think being a grandmother has brought out a side of her I've never seen."

Beverly smiled knowingly. "I think you and Will being together has eased her mind a little. She was always so worried about you."

Deanna nodded in agreement. "You're right. It's been really nice being with her without the constant pressure for me to find a man!"

"And to think, the one you found was right under your nose the whole time!" Beverly laughed.

And Deanna laughed, too, before suddenly turning quiet and thoughtful. She smiled over at Beverly. "Mother knew all along that Will and I would end up together. We were talking about it just the other day. She knew that we'd finally admit the truth to each other."

"I knew that, too, but… Well, sometimes you have to let others find their own way," Beverly said softly. "As a counselor, you know that."

"Just like I let you and Jean-Luc figure it out on your own?" She raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

And Beverly laughed again. "Just like. Although, if we hadn't ended up on the mountain, I don't know how long it might have taken. We just kept… stepping around each other. One of us was ready when the other wasn't and vice-versa." She sighed. "I'm just so glad that we're together now, and we have the children, and Wesley." She grinned. "I still can't believe he's back. And he wants to return to the Academy."

"I heard. Will told me. It's wonderful news, Beverly."

She nodded. "So we'll be heading back to Earth in a few days. Jean-Luc and I are a little concerned about how the children will handle a 24th century Earth. What do you think?"

Deanna thought for a few moments. "It will definitely be an adjustment, but being on the ship has been quite an adjustment, and they've all done remarkably well. Don't forget, there's not much of Earth they've actually seen – just the Gap and El Pano. San Francisco would have been quite different during the early 1900's even if we had ventured that far."

Beverly shook her head. "I remember how we pored over the El Pano newspapers when the earthquake struck in 1906."

"But we didn't save any of them, so the children never saw those pictures or articles. And they were too young to remember them at the time. San Francisco will just be another futuristic place like the _Enterprise_. And you can see how well they've adjusted here."

"Unbelievably well," Beverly agreed. "I sometimes wonder if that's normal."

"Apparently, it is for them. Since we have no basis for comparison, it's difficult to say what's normal in a situation like ours. I'm just relieved that they're thriving and they seem to be happy. I feel like the entire crew is becoming an extended family for them. Did you know that Data is giving Thomas violin lessons?"

Beverly smiled. "I heard. Margaret told me at lunch today. She wants to learn to play the 'fiddle' too! I'm afraid Data's going to have several new students."

"I don't think he'll mind."

Beverly was quiet for a while, thinking about their trip back to Earth, thinking about going home, and she finally brought up the topic that she'd been the most worried about. "Should we take them back to Cutter Gap? I think they'll want to go, and… I've done a little research. About a hundred years ago, the area was renovated and turned into a living history museum. They rebuilt the original buildings to show what life in the early 20th century was like in that area of the mountains."

Deanna nodded. "I know. I've done some research on my own as well. I've seen the pictures on the data base. It looks like home. The mission house, the school, even the stables – they're all there."

"But the people won't be. They've been gone for over 400 years. That won't be an easy thing to explain to children."

Deanna hesitated, pressing her lips together in thought. And then she replied, "Maybe some children would have difficulty understanding. But… I have a feeling that ours might not. Think of all they've already had to accept." She sighed. "I think if we go back to Earth, then we have to go back home." And she smiled. "I don't think our journey will be complete until we make a full circle."

~vVv~


	29. Chapter 29

While holding a crying baby to his shoulder with one hand, Will Riker was trying, unsuccessfully, to push shoes onto Matilda's feet. He could have used another pair of hands, but Deanna was at work, the boys were in school, and Lwaxana was taking a "spa afternoon" as she called it.

"I won't arrive on Earth looking like a space derelict," she'd laughed earlier in the day while trying to get her hair to cooperate.

And so she'd commandeered one of the holodecks, sought out Margaret, and they'd both gone to the spa. Over the past weeks, the two had become fast friends. While she loved her own grandchildren, there was only so much she could enjoy with the boys, and Matilda and Lucy were still too young to receive the full benefit of their loving, yet eccentric, grandmother. Margaret, on the other hand, was enthralled by Lwaxana – much to the chagrin of her father. And that still made Will laugh. What once had been a vexation for Jean-Luc Picard was now a fascination for his daughter. But Jean-Luc saw the mutual adoration the two had for each other, and he actually encouraged the friendship, regretting at times that his children had no grandparents, and feeling, at other times, old enough to be their grandfather.

Lucy let out another wail that pierced his eardrums, and Will dropped the tiny shoes on the sofa in order to free up his other hand so that he could shift the infant to his other shoulder.

"They not fit," Matilda grinned up at him, wiggling her toes and laughing.

"No, they don't seem to fit," Will sighed, contemplating replicating a new pair. But they'd fit the day before when Deanna had put them on. "Let me go put Lucy down and we'll try again."

Will walked into the nursery, laid the baby in her crib, and leaned over close to her. "What is wrong, Miss Lucy?" he crooned even as she waved her tiny fists in the air, face still red with every cry. She wasn't usually this fussy. He'd tried feeding her, burping her, changing her – all to no avail. And so he tried singing, something that Deanna claimed upset the children more than soothed them.

But apparently not with this one. As soon as the first few words wafted down to her, Lucy drew in a small breath, hiccupped, and stopped crying. By the time the itsy bitsy spider climbed up the spout again, her eyes were closed and her chest was rising and falling in even breaths. Will smiled. She'd just been too tired to sleep. With four children, he knew that feeling. There were many nights when he probably needed a lullaby, but the sound of Deanna's breathing had always been music to his ears. And he smiled again at the sentimental thought.

"Daddy!" Matilda's voice called from the other room, and, after placing a soft kiss on the top of Lucy's head, Will straightened and headed back to his other daughter.

_No rest for the weary_, he thought. But he loved every minute of it. Even when he was exhausted, pulled between duty and family, he would never want it any other way. The family he had with Deanna meant everything to him.

And it made him think.

In three days, they'd be back on Earth, and he'd see his father again, and he wasn't quite sure how he felt about that. The last time they'd seen each other had been strained. Of course, it had been years, and their conversation a month ago had gone well. Deanna had assured him that all would be fine – Kyle and Kate would be excited to meet the children, the children would be excited to see them, and father and son would be all right. He sighed. He'd always trusted Deanna's intuition. He supposed now wasn't the time to start questioning.

"Shoes, Daddy!" Matilda demanded.

And so he turned his thoughts to more pressing matters: two little feet and a pair of red shoes.

~vVv~

She'd been granted permission to miss her afternoon classes, a special privilege indeed, for education was greatly valued in the Picard household. But both Beverly and Jean-Luc recognized that learning came in many forms, and time spent with Lwaxana Troi held some lessons that Margaret couldn't get in school. Although for the life of him, Jean-Luc couldn't understand how spending an afternoon at the spa could possibly benefit his daughter, but Beverly had convinced him to let her go.

"Jean-Luc, Margaret adores Lwaxana. She's the closest thing to a grandmother she'll ever have. And now that I'm back at work, I feel like I don't get to spend as much time with her. Sometimes a girl just needs to do… girl things."

And he couldn't argue with that. Other than braiding hair and picking out which shoes went with which dress, there weren't many other "girl things" that he confessed to know about. It still tickled his first officer to no end that he knew about hair, shoes, and dresses in the first place.

And so, he'd consented to let Margaret have a "spa afternoon" with her Grandmother Lwaxana. And now, the eight-year-old was dressed in a fluffy white terrycloth robe, reclining by a pool, with mud plastered to her face while a beauty therapist placed cucumbers over her eyes. A tall glass of pineapple fruit punch was cradled in her hands, and every few seconds she sat up a little to sip from the red and white striped straw.

"Ah, this is the life," Lwaxana sighed from her position next to Margaret.

And Margaret sighed in imitation – the highest form of flattery. "Did you and Aunt Deanna have spa afternoons when she was little?" she asked.

"Oh, my, yes. Every chance we got," Lwaxana replied. "Sometimes you just have to pamper yourself. That's what I always say. Take care of yourself and you can take care of others."

"Mama and Aunt Deanna work out together almost every morning. On Saturdays, they let me go with them to the gym. But they do exercise, like stretching and yoga. Mama dances sometimes. She's teaching me how to do tap."

"Dancing is a wonderful skill. Every man likes a good dance partner," Lwaxana smiled. "Why once, on Declan Four, I won a dance contest, which wasn't an easy thing to do on Declan."

"Why?" Margaret leaned up and took another sip of her drink, then settled back, replacing the cucumber slice that had slipped down on her cheek. She wasn't sure how cucumbers were supposed to help your eyes, but they did feel nice and cool.

"You've never seen a Declanian dance. Contrary to popular belief, two left feet can be quite beneficial in dance contests!"

"They have two left feet?" Margaret questioned. She loved listening to Lwaxana talk about the many planets she'd visited.

"Two left feet and four right ones. And more rhythm than a twentieth century swing band."

Margaret giggled at the image. And she actually knew what a swing band was. Sometimes, Uncle Will would play swing music on his trombone, and once they'd all gone to a concert on the holodeck – Benny Goodman, the King of Swing.

"Will you show me a picture of a Declanian on the database?"

"Oh, we don't need to look at pictures," Lwaxana exclaimed, and then directed her voice toward the ceiling. "Computer, one Declanian manicurist."

And a few moments later, the six-legged Declanian appeared. Margaret pulled the cucumber slices away from her eyes and tried not to stare. But along with the six legs, Lwaxana had failed to mention the four arms, four hands, and forty fingers.

"That's what makes them wonderful manicurists," Lwaxana announced, removing her own cucumber slices and smiling up at the female Declanian.

The alien hologram simply waved her forty fingers in front of her and laughed. Every fingernail was a different color.

"Can I have different colors?" Margaret enthused.

And Lwaxana smiled at the girl's eagerness. "You can have any colors you want!"

~vVv~


	30. Chapter 30

**Author's Note:** I'm sorry I haven't posted in a long time. The real world has kept me busy. For those of you who are still following this story, I really appreciate your patience and understanding. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Beverly tilted her head back, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face, felt the gentle breeze lift the copper strands of her hair, blowing them over her shoulders. She shaded her eyes with her hand and looked toward the end of the pier. Jean-Luc, Will, and Kyle were surrounded by the children and a dozen seagulls that were swooping and diving for the breadcrumbs on the water's surface. Next to her, Deanna and Kate were enjoying the scene as well. Baby Lucy was asleep in the stroller beside them.

"They all look like fisherman," Deanna observed, as she smiled at the sweater-clad crew all in shades of cream and wheat.

"Well, as they say, when in Rome…" Kate laughed.

Beverly pulled her own cardigan closer around her as a gust of wind picked up; the air was crisp and cool, the sky high and blue, streaked with wisps of white clouds. It was a perfect autumn day, and San Francisco was glittering in the noonday sun.

"I know Will and Kyle can't wait to break out the fishing poles," Kate continued.

Deanna smiled. "They have more in common than either of them is willing to admit."

Kate nodded. "True. But I'm so glad that this visit is going well." She glanced over at Deanna. "Kyle has missed him."

"Will has missed his father. All those years on the mountain, when we thought we'd never see any of you again, I know he wished he'd had another chance to set things right."

Kate stared toward the men at the end of the pier. "Now they can." She shook her head. "And if fishing makes them happy…"

"After lunch," Beverly reminded, then glanced back over her shoulder toward the slight hill that rose toward the city behind them.

"He'll be here soon," Deanna said quietly, knowing who she was looking for.

Beverly sighed. "It's been almost two hours."

"I'm sure they have a lot to talk about."

Kate reached out and patted Beverly's hand where it rested on the pier railing. "They'll take him back. They'd be fools not to."

Beverly smiled. 'Well, we know that, but…" Her voice trailed off.

"I've gotten to know Andrea Brand since I've been back. She's a good judge of character."

"I know." Beverly nodded. "But she's given Wesley a second chance once before. I don't know if she'll be willing to give him another one."

Deanna looked over Beverly's shoulder. "We'll find out soon enough," she said, watching as the slim figure approached, moving down the steps and onto the walkway that led to the pier.

Beverly turned and looked back at her son as he came closer. His posture gave nothing away – tall, straight – he carried himself with ease and confidence. He'd grown a lot on his journey with the Traveler, and in that instant, Beverly knew he'd be all right no matter what the outcome of his interview had been.

When he reached them, he leaned forward and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek and Beverly held her hands to his upper arms, looking at him expectantly as he drew back.

"Well?" she prompted when he didn't speak immediately.

Wesley smiled and nodded. "I can start next semester."

"Oh, Wes," she took him into her arms and hugged him.

"Mom," he laughed when the embrace went on longer than he felt it should. He pulled back. "You can let go."

"So we can hug him," Deanna proclaimed, reaching out and taking the young man into her arms as well.

"Congratulations, Wesley," Kate offered, patting his back.

And Wesley shook his head, allowed the women to fuss over him for several long moments before pulling away and taking a step back. He looked toward the end of the pier.

And Beverly knew what he was thinking.

"He's so proud of you," she said softly. "Either way."

Wesley looked back at her, a trace of doubt crossing his face.

"Really," she insisted. "He just wants you to be happy. We all do."

He nodded. "I am." He looked around at the city that rose behind them. "This is what I want. What I've always wanted." He rolled his eyes. "It's just taken me a while to finally understand it all." He looked back over his shoulder again.

Beverly pushed him lightly toward the end of the pier. "Go on. Tell him."

And Wesley moved away from them, walking slowly down the pier. At the same time, Jean-Luc had looked back and seen them. He began walking toward the younger man.

Beverly watched as the two met in the middle of the pier, too far away for her to hear them, especially over the cries of the seagulls. But she didn't need to hear the words. Tears touched her eyes as Jean-Luc enveloped Wesley in his arms, holding the young man's head to his shoulder and patting his back.

Next to her, Deanna reached over and took hold of her hand, squeezed it gently. "He's home, Beverly."

And she smiled through her tears. "We all are."

~vVv~


	31. Chapter 31

**Author's Note:** I'm sorry it's been so long since I've updated this story. Real life and other stories have taken priority lately. I should have more time on my hands now, so I'm hoping to finish this story soon. Thanks for reading and I appreciate your patience. This chapter is short, but I think it will set up the next chapter well.

Moments later, Lwaxana Troi came walking down the stairs behind them, motioning with her arms to join her. The blue and green folds of her dress fluttered in the breeze like miniature kites taking flight. As always, she stood out among the neutral colors of the sweaters that most of them were wearing.

"They have a table for us," she announced, waving back toward the restaurant situated at the top of the pier. "It's not easy to get a table for fifteen without a prior reservation, but I did it."

"Don't tell me," Deanna teased her mother. "You had to mention that you were a Daughter of the Fifth House, Holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, and Heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed?"

And Lwaxana rolled her eyes at her daughter. "Well, of course, I did. Remember – you use what works, sweetheart."

"Always," Deanna agreed, turning and waving toward the end of the pier, getting Will's attention.

They watched as the children raced back up the pier, passing Jean-Luc and Wesley, reaching out and grabbing their hands and pulling them along. By the time they reached them, their faces were flushed with excitement and sun.

"I'm hungry," Walker complained, squinting up at Beverly.

"Well, you're in luck. Grandmother Lwaxana managed to get us a table for fifteen." She smiled over at Jean-Luc, who was standing close to Wesley. "Room enough for all of us."

"Room enough, indeed," he confirmed, laying a hand on Wesley's shoulder.

"Lucy doesn't really need a whole place," Thomas observed, leaning over the stroller and making a funny face at his baby sister. "Just maybe half a place."

"Oh, no, Thomas, everyone has a whole place in this family," Will smiled, his eyes shifting toward his father. "Even Lucy. She'll grow into it."

"Your dad's right," Jean-Luc agreed. "Sometimes families just need room to grow."

"Are we one big family?" Margaret asked, pushing up closer to Jean-Luc and slipping her hand in his.

"What do you think?" he smiled down at his daughter as he followed Lwaxana up the stairs toward the restaurant, all of them trailing out behind them.

Margaret just smiled, already knowing the answer.

~vVv~

Not only had Lwaxana gotten them a table, it was the best one in the restaurant, next to floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the bay. While they waited for their lunch, the children ran back and forth from the table to the front of the restaurant to press their noses against the lobster tank until finally Beverly and Deanna called a halt to all the movement and made them sit down and wait patiently.

"The rest of the people in the restaurant might appreciate a little less action," Deanna maintained when they started to protest.

"You're no fun," Will teased, settling into his chair beside her, having made the last trip to the lobster tank with the kids.

"And you're supposed to be setting a good example," Deanna scolded, reaching out and taking hold of his hand.

"Will's always had a fascination with lobsters," Kyle laughed from across the table, and then launched into a story about Will as a boy.

Deanna smiled her appreciation toward her father-in-law as he kept the children entertained for the next ten minutes. While the children listened to Kyle, she leaned toward the opposite end of the table and joined in Beverly and Jean-Luc's conversation.

"So, we're planning on going tomorrow?" she asked.

"No time like the present," Jean-Luc answered, and both Deanna and Beverly groaned at his play on words.

They'd done some more research on the area of El Pano and Cutter Gap, and the smaller of the two towns was now a living-history museum.

"It's remarkably detailed," Beverly said. "The mission house, school, and stables have all been accurately reproduced, and apparently there are still some surviving artifacts." She looked over at Deanna. "Do you think it might be too real for the children?"

Deanna glanced down at the end of the table where the children were hanging on Kyle's every word, and then back to Beverly. "When I think about what our children have already seen and experienced, sometimes I wonder where reality and unreality meet." She looked over at Jean-Luc. "We've brought them from the reality of the 20th century to what must seem like the unreality of the 24th, and yet…" She looked at the children again – all smiling and laughing and healthy. "I don't think anything could ever be too real for them."

"I agree," Will smiled. "They're a resilient crew."

"The best kind," Jean-Luc agreed with an arching of his eyebrows.

"So… tomorrow?" Deanna asked again.

And around her, three heads nodded.

"Tomorrow," Jean-Luc confirmed.

~vVv~


	32. Chapter 32

When they arrived at the transporter station in El Pano, they decided to take an authentic wagon ride to Cutter Gap. It was one of the museum's features – taking a journey back in time. Beverly laughed at the bemused expression on the wagon master's face when the older children scrambled into the back of the wagon without hesitation and without any need of assistance. But he didn't say anything, so she didn't offer an explanation. And what would she have said? _Oh, up until two months ago, our children did this on a regular basis? They probably know the way to Cutter Gap better than you or the horses? _No, it was best to keep quiet. That's what they'd said to the children at breakfast.

"_You mean we can't talk?" Thomas questioned with a confused look on his face._

_They were all gathered at a restaurant near the long-range transporter station close to the Presidio. Lwaxana had worked her magic again and secured them a table._

"_Of course, you can talk, Thomas," Will answered with a grin. Lately, his younger son had become quite literal with his interpretations. "Just don't say anything that will make someone suspect that you've been to El Pano or Cutter Gap before." _Like four hundred years ago,_ he mentally added._

"_So, if someone asks, you want us to lie?" Margaret stared at her uncle, eyes wide, then glanced nervously toward Beverly and Jean-Luc._

_And Beverly sighed. "No, Margaret, we don't want you to lie. If someone does ask a direct question, you can answer them truthfully. You can tell them that you've been there before, just don't give a lot of details."_

_Andrew laughed. "Don't tell them we lived there in 1913. They won't believe you anyway."_

_Jean-Luc smiled over at his son. "You're right, Andrew. I don't think they'd believe you, but let's not test that theory. The less they know about our… history with Cutter Gap, the better."_

"_We can't break the Temporal Prime Directive," Sam announced, glancing toward his mother for confirmation that he'd said that correctly._

_Deanna nodded. "Exactly Sam."_

_And Walker shook his head. "I don't wanna break nothin'."_

"_I don't want to break anything," Beverly corrected._

"_Or else you'd get in trouble," Walker agreed, and smiled as a soft round of laughter broke around the table._

Beverly glanced down at the wagon bed behind her. The children and Wesley were laughing and chattering and pointing out trees and animals in the woods as the wagon made its way along the rutted road. It wasn't the same road that they'd traveled in the past, but it was in the general location, and just as pitted and rough.

"For authenticity," Jean-Luc had murmured in her ear, and she'd smiled over at him, could actually see his palms itching to grab the reins from the wagon master and take control of the team. They'd taken two wagons, and she suspected that Will was feeling the same way in the wagon behind them.

She sighed, and leaned against his shoulder, drew in a deep breath.

It smelled like home.

The thought came to her instantly, and she blinked up at the green-gold sunlight as it filtered through the leaves above her. It seemed like yesterday that they'd been here, on this mountain, in these woods, carving out a life that they'd never expected to have… or to leave. She reached over, and twined her hand into Jean-Luc's, gave him a gentle smile when he glanced at her. She'd worried that this might be too real for the children, but now she wondered if it would be too real for her.

She felt movement behind her, and she turned, realizing that Walker had stood up in the wagon bed and was now holding onto her arm.

"Walker," she scolded, "sit down immediately. You know better…" And she stopped, not wanting the wagon master to hear the rest of what she'd been about to say. _You know better than to stand up in a moving wagon. _But a child of the 24th century wouldn't know better.

"I'm hungry," he complained, even as he slid back down onto the rough boards of the wagon bed beneath him, Wesley clapping a hand around his shoulder.

Jean-Luc looked back at his son. "You just ate breakfast a few hours ago."

"But I'm still hungry," he pouted, lower lip jutting out in an all-to-familiar expression.

The wagon master, who sat on the bench in front of Beverly and Jean-Luc, glanced back over his shoulder. "They serve a right fine lunch at the Mission House," he informed, his accent and dialect almost perfect, and so reminiscent of the people in the cove. "We should be there in about fifteen minutes."

"Do they have a replicator?" Walker asked, starting to get back up.

But Beverly reached down and pushed him into place.

"A repla what?" the wagon master queried, doing a fine acting job.

"A repli-" Walker started, but stopped when Andrew shoved a foot against his leg and hissed, "Prime directive," under his breath.

And Jean-Luc laughed when he saw the wagon master wink at him.

Authentic indeed!

~vVv~

It almost took her breath away when the wagon made its final descent into the village and rounded the last corner. There was the school, which was also the church, white against the dark green of the surrounding forest, and beyond that the grey, weathered boards of the mission house, the stable, just as grey and weathered, across from it. There were a few dozen people milling about, some tourists, some museum employees dressed in period clothing.

The children hopped out of the back of the wagon before the wagon master even got down from his bench. He just shook his head at them and smiled over at Beverly and Jean-Luc. "You've got a lively family there."

And Beverly returned his smile. "Yes, we do," was all she said, and then turned to corralling them before they rushed away.

Will's family, complete with Kyle, Kate, and Lwaxana, joined them. At first, the other three adults had been hesitant to come with them, insisting that going back might need to be a trip reserved for the original travelers. But they'd all agreed that their life was now, here, in the 24th century. And in the 24th century the children had grandparents.

_And Wesley_, Beverly smiled, watching her eldest son gather the little ones together, reaching down and picking up Matilda, settling her on his hip. They'd all taken to Wesley. _Like ducks to Mother Goose,_ Lwaxana had stated, not batting an eye when Margaret had corrected her – goslings to Mother Goose. And Beverly thought the comparison might work better for Lwaxana – the children had taken to her as well, and she definitely had some Mother Goose qualities. Margaret leaned against her now, holding on to her arm.

"Well, should we stay together, or split up?" Will inquired.

"Splitting up may be better, at least until lunchtime," Deanna surmised. "Together, we make for quite a crowd."

"I'd like to take a look at the stables," Kyle announced.

And the older boys rushed to agree with him. "Me, too!" Sam, Thomas, and Andrew chorused.

"I read that the Mission House has a room with medical items on display," Kate said, glancing toward the large grey building behind them.

"And parts of the kitchen are open to the public, as well," Lwaxana added.

Beverly gazed over at Jean-Luc; he'd been very quiet, and there was a pensive expression on his face. She slipped her hand into his, got his attention. "Jean?" He looked at her, and she smiled. "Penny for your thoughts?"

A soft smile lit his features. "I was just thinking that… I'd like to see the school first. That's where they keep some of the original artifacts."

Deanna felt the emotions washing over him, and she smiled. "I have an idea. Why don't the Rikers visit the stables first, and the Picards can go into the school? Then we'll switch places. After that, we'll go to the Mission House. It's big enough for all of us."

"And it'll be time for lunch," Walker insisted.

"Just about time for lunch," she agreed, as heads nodded around her.

And so, they went their separate ways, Sam and Thomas running down the gentle slope toward the stables, while Wesley handed Matilda to Will. Margaret let go of Lwaxana, only to grab hold of her mother's hand as they walked toward the school. By the time they reached the front steps, they were all holding on – Walker held to Wesley, and Andrew had taken hold of Jean-Luc. Beverly reached out and took her husband's free hand, smiled over at him as they climbed the steps – she really did feel as if she were going back in time.

~vVv~


	33. Chapter 33

The interior of the school was dark compared to the bright sunlight outside; even the tall windows, pushed up so close to the trees on either side, only filtered in slight illumination. The middle of the room held benches and a few desks, but the walls were lined with glass display cases. They started on the right side, walking along, peering into each case, talking in hushed tones.

"Look," Margaret whispered, "that's a Bible."

"Used by the Reverend David Grantland from 1907 to 1918," Beverly read the information plaque beside it.

She glanced over at Jean-Luc; they'd attended services, especially after the children came along. How many times had they seen the young preacher turn the pages of that book? Tell a story from it? Give guidance and wisdom to his small congregation?

"And that's a hymnal," Andrew noticed, pointing to a smaller book beside it. "Remember the songs?" he asked his sister.

And Margaret nodded.

They moved on to the next case, filled with small books, slate boards, pencils, and chalk.

"School stuff," Walker announced.

"That's what children a long time ago used," a woman who stood close to the case explained, leaning in closer when she heard Walker's words. She was tall, with her hair pulled back in a bun, and she wore a long dress. "Back then, they didn't have computers like we do today. Those weren't invented until the latter part of the 20th century."

"And they didn't have holodecks, either," Andrew added, looking up at the woman.

"Oh, no, that would have been quite magical for them," she agreed, smiling down at him.

"But it's not magic," Margaret countered. "Holodecks have holographic projections that use force fields to contain photons. It's all science."

The woman's smile broadened. "You're exactly right." She glanced up at Beverly and Jean-Luc. "Someone knows her holographic technology."

"We live on a starship," Walker lisped. "It's got lots of holodecks."

"Well, as real as holodecks seem, what you're seeing in these cases are genuine artifacts from over four hundred years ago," the woman informed.

"So, they are all originals?" Jean-Luc inquired.

She nodded. "Yes, the artifacts here in the school are. We do have some reproductions in the other buildings, but these items have been gathered and carefully preserved. It's amazing that our historians have been able to create this collection. Cutter Gap was such a small settlement."

"It's wonderful how you've been able to recreate it," Beverly commented, looking around at the benches and desks. "It seems quite authentic."

The woman waved her hand toward the display cases on the opposite side. "We have photographs of the reconstruction process that compares the rebuilt buildings to the originals. Make sure you take a look at those."

"Oh, we will," Jean-Luc assured, settling his hand on Walker's shoulder and pushing him forward.

Wesley, who had walked ahead of them, was already on the other side, leaning over one of the cases. "Look at these photographs," he said, glancing up at Jean-Luc and Beverly. "The ones on the left show the original buildings and the ones on the right are what we're seeing today."

"Remarkable!" Beverly exclaimed. "Look how the old buildings fell into disrepair over the years."

Wesley read aloud from one of the information plaques. "In 1952, the Mission House was partially burned when lightning struck the northeast corner of the roof. Luckily, no one was injured in the fire, but much of the second floor was damaged. After repairs were made, the Mission House continued to serve the citizens of Cutter Gap until 2015, when it was deemed structurally unsound and was dismantled."

"After that, the whole town seemed to fade away," Jean-Luc recalled from his research. "A few families remained, but society had advanced so far that small villages like this tended to dry up."

"Didn't it rain?" Walker stared up curiously at his father.

And Jean-Luc laughed gently. "Not dry up like that, Walker. I just meant that people kept leaving the village until no one lived here anymore."

"That's sad," Margaret sighed.

And Beverly wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "It was a long time ago," she reminded her, but even she could feel the emptiness of that assurance. For them, it wasn't a long time ago at all.

Jean-Luc and the boys moved on to the next display case and stared down at more church and school items: a hand bell, sheets of piano music, another hymnal, a McGuffey primer, lunch tins, a basket, a few old cans.

"For Kick the Can," Andrew said, looking up at Wesley. And the young man smiled down at his brother, imagining the boy running and playing on the surrounding school grounds.

"I like Kick the Can," Walker smiled. "We could play on the holodeck."

"Maybe we can find a can and play after lunch," Jean-Luc suggested.

"Yay!" Walker squealed, and ran back to where Margaret and Beverly were standing a few feet behind them, still looking at the other display. Wesley followed after him. And Jean-Luc smiled at their retreating forms - oldest and youngest, already brothers in less than two weeks.

"Papa?" Andrew's voice drew him back to the display. He was pressed close to the case, his nose almost touching the glass, and one finger was pushed against it, pointing at something. He looked up at his father. "It's us," he whispered.

Jean-Luc leaned closer. There, in between an old reader and a tin lunch bucket, was a sepia-toned picture – school children gathered on the front steps, arranged in rows, smiling as the photographer took the picture. Beside it, the information plaque read: "Cutter Gap School, 1912-1913."

And Andrew was right. All of the older children were there, even Walker, who, along with other younger ones, had been allowed to go to school that morning in order to be a part of the picture.

Before he had a chance to comment, Beverly and Wesley joined them, and Margaret and Walker pushed in around their father so they could get a good look.

The picture was old and faded, crinkled around the corners, but still clear enough to make out the faces of the children. In the middle, sat Miss Christy and Reverend Grantland. In front of them, a line of children sat on the ground below the lowest step. Walker and Margaret were at the end, and it looked like Walker was trying to grab something away from his sister.

"You took my biscuit," Walker whispered, staring over at Margaret.

For them, it had only been less than a year ago that the picture had been taken. The memory was fresh in their minds.

"Just for a little while," Margaret replied. "You would have been eating when the man took the picture."

Beverly and Jean-Luc both suppressed their laughter. This was an argument they remembered – the stolen biscuit.

"Ruby Mae gave it to me," Walker pouted, the feelings instantly coming back.

"And I gave it back," his sister insisted.

Further up on the steps, the older boys stood next to each other, Sam leaning against the stair railing, then Thomas, and then Andrew, who was looking down at his sister and brother on the front row.

"It was just a biscuit," Andrew sighed.

"But it was my biscuit," he maintained, then turned and looked up at Beverly. "I'm hungry, Mama."

She just rolled her eyes and patted him on the shoulder.

"Look. There's Sam Houston and Little Burl," Andrew breathed.

"And there's Mountie O"Teale," Margaret pointed to the far right of the picture. The little girl's wide round eyes seemed to stare out at them from the photograph.

Just then, the woman who had spoken to them earlier came up behind them. "Oh, I see you've found the school picture. We're very proud to have that. It's one of the few surviving photographs from that time period."

Jean-Luc instinctively pulled the children closer to him and looked back at the woman. "Yes, it's very interesting."

"I've been told that one of my distant relatives is in that picture. His name was Sam Houston Holcombe." She smiled down at Margaret and Andrew. "He was probably about your age. He's the little boy right in front of the teacher." She pointed toward Miss Christy, then glanced at the children again.

Beverly and Jean-Luc shared a look, and beside them Wesley cleared his throat. "You know, it's getting late. Will and Deanna are probably wondering where we are." He reached down and swung Walker up into his arms.

He caught his mother's relieved expression. "You're right, Wes," she agreed. "It's so easy to get lost in here." _And too easy to be found,_ she mentally added, glancing back at the photograph.

"Thank you so much for telling us about the artifacts," Jean-Luc smiled at the woman. "It was all very fascinating. I'm sure the rest of the museum will be just as interesting."

"Oh, yes," the woman walked with them to the door, "be sure to check out the stables and the Mission House. Not all of the items there are originals, but it still gives a very accurate representation of the era." She glanced down at the children again. "And if you have time, we've added a new building. Up the hill, we've recreated a typical cabin that a family would have lived in during the early 1900s. It's very realistic."

And Beverly nodded, squeezed Margaret's hand in hers. "Thank you. We'll… check it out." And they stepped back into the bright sun and stood as a family at the top of the steps. The village spread out around them, perhaps too realistic in the light of the day.

~vVv~


	34. Chapter 34

They found Will, Kyle, and the boys outside the stable, and Andrew rushed to tell them about their discovery.

"There's a picture of us in the school," he exclaimed.

"Shh," Margaret hissed, elbowing her brother in the ribs and looking around. "Someone will hear."

"Ow!" he pushed her away and rubbed at his chest. "No one's going to hear."

"Andrew," Beverly placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, "Margaret's right. We do need to be careful." He frowned up at her. "Just don't speak too loudly."

Will glanced over at Jean-Luc. "A picture?"

"Class of 1913," he clarified quietly, looking around himself.

"And we're in it," Andrew said, taking a step away from Margaret.

"Ya' mean the last picture? When Margaret stole Walker's biscuit?" Thomas asked, trying to keep his voice low.

"I didn't steal it," she insisted.

"All right," Jean-Luc stepped in, "this conversation is over." He looked meaningfully at his children, then back to Will. "Just be careful not to linger too long at the last display case – especially if the guide is nearby."

"But can we see it, Dad?" Sam looked up at his father.

And Will nodded. "We'll still go see it. Let's find your mother first." He glanced toward the Mission House and then toward the Picards. "They went ahead to look at some of the rooms on display."

"I want to see those, too," Beverly said.

"Then let's go there next and we'll check out the stables later," Jean-Luc suggested. "When we're finished, we'll find us a table for lunch."

"Good," Walker declared from where he sat, perched on Wesley's shoulders, "I'm hungry."

"Maybe you can get a biscuit!" Thomas teased.

And Andrew joined in. "Yeah – just keep it away from Margaret!"

~vVv~

An hour later, they were gathered around a table on the porch of the Mission House waiting to be served what the menu promised was a typical Cutter Gap meal.

And Will had laughed. "That could be almost anything from fried chicken to rabbit."

"Or squirrel," Jean-Luc added.

In their ten years on the mountain, they'd feasted on all sorts of game, from deer to wild boar to possum, even snake.

"I hope it's fried chicken," Andrew declared.

"With corn," Margaret said.

"And mashed potatoes," Sam added.

"Black-eyed peas," Thomas chimed in.

"And biscuits," Walker whispered, his fingers crossed in front of him.

"I just hope it gets here soon," Will sighed, smiling at the children. "Y'all are making me hungry."

And Deanna laughed at his wording. "That's the first time I've heard you say 'y'all' in a month."

They'd all picked up some colloquial phrases, but she'd noticed how quickly the adults had dropped them once back on the _Enterprise_.

Will just grinned. "Well, when in Cutter Gap…"

"It's a wonderful word," Lwaxana exclaimed from the end of the table. "After lunch, _y'all _should take a look at the display in the front room. It has quite an interesting list of words and phrases that were common during the time period."

"There are also some interesting superstitions and tales that were popular," Kate added. "I read about a woman called Granny Barclay who told ghost stories, and a group of children who went searching for the ghost."

At the mention of Granny Barclay's name, all the children looked at each other, and Margaret said quietly, "Margaret, Margaret, so says Ebin, skip that rope and look to heaven."

Andrew joined in, "Climb a hill to make her taller, if she falls she'll give a holler."

And Thomas whispered, "If she stays upon her toes, she'll stay dry won't break her nose."

And then Sam, "Take a half turn to the right, finds herself in blackest night."

"Sam Houston pushed Creed," Andrew explained, "and he fell into the cave."

"We went after him," Thomas added, "but Miss Christy hurt her ankle."

"If it weren't for Ruby Mae, I guess we'd still be there." Margaret looked to her parents and then over to Will and Deanna.

Kate's gaze shifted among them as well, realizing by the expressions on their faces that what had been a story written in a display had actually been real for them – they'd lived it over four hundred years ago.

"The longest night of my life," Beverly sighed, reaching out and wrapping her arm around Margaret's shoulder.

"Mine, too," Deanna agreed, picking up Thomas' hand and squeezing it in her own.

"We hunted all night," Will said, glancing over at Jean-Luc, remembering the hours spent on the mountainside, walking with their neighbors, carrying torches and calling out the names of the children.

"We were all right," Sam declared, "but we were lost in the cave – till Ruby Mae got us out."

"And she found the Bible with the story in it – about the evil betrayer," Margaret recalled. "But preacher said you couldn't blame the O'Teales for what he'd done." She looked over at her father. "Right, Papa?"

Jean-Luc nodded, "That's right, Margaret." He remembered the young preacher's words at the funeral of the O'Teales' ancestor, spoken to them all, and written on his heart. And he shared them now, "We each make our own way in this world, and family means more than who carries your name." He looked around at the people gathered at the table. "Your clan is who you choose to care for."

~vVv~


	35. Chapter 35

The path was different, but it was the same mountain, and the same sky, and the same afternoon sun that angled in at a sharp slant over the brow of the hill, filtering silver-green light down through the leaves above. The children, as agile as deer and as quick as bunnies, scampered ahead of them over the rocks and leaf-strewn ground. They followed the path that had been marked, leading to the museum's cabin exhibit, yet it was all any of them could do to keep from veering off the trail, instinctively moving toward the place where their cabins once stood – further to the west toward home.

Jean-Luc stopped for a moment, looked around, gaining his bearings. Yes, just a few meters ahead was where the old path once led, up between the oaks and maples. Beverly stopped beside him, placed her hand on his arm.

He smiled at her and began to speak,

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and sorry I could not travel both and be one traveler, long I stood and looked down one as far as I could to where it bent in the undergrowth;then took the other, as just as fair, and having perhaps the better claim, because it was grassy and wanted wear; though as for that the passing there had worn them really about the same, and both that morning equally lay in leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh somewhere ages and ages hence: two roads diverged in a wood, and I - I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."*

As he'd recited the poem, the others had stopped. Will, Deanna, Lucy, and Wesley ahead of them, Kyle, Kate, and Lwaxana close behind. Even the children had slowed, turned back, gathered around along the side.

He felt Beverly's hand close around his arm. "We've come back," she breathed. "To the road less traveled."

"And it has been ages hence," Will agreed with a grin.

"But now we're traveling both," Deanna added, looking around at their gathered families. "And that… has made all the difference."

"And a good difference," Jean-Luc agreed, beginning to move up the path again, the others moving with him.

"Papa?" The voice was soft at his elbow, and he looked down into Margaret's eyes. "I've never heard that poem before. Who wrote it?"

"A very wise man named Robert Frost." He cupped his hand around her cheek. "He wrote a lot of poems."

"When we get home, will you read me more of them?" she asked.

And Jean-Luc smiled, glancing up the path ahead of him to where Beverly stood, the expression on her face letting him know that she, too, had noticed their daughter's choice of words. _When we get home. _

To the _Enterprise_.

The road not taken.

He gazed back at her upturned face. "Of course I'll read you more." And he bent and kissed her forehead. "As soon as we get home."

~vVv~

* "The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost


End file.
